Three Long Weeks
by jzhanfan
Summary: My take on everyone's favorite missing moment, the trip to Bespin. Early chapters are T for language because Han needs his mouth washed out with soap. Things will heat up somewhat in later chapters so we'll see where it goes.
1. Not My Fault

_Author's Note:_

_This isn't exactly my first fanfic but it's the first one I've been brave enough to publish. Thanks, PrincessRachel, for giving me the nudge. _

_I 've been playing with this tale, in some form or another, for years. it's a classic "missing moment" story, taking place during ESB; on the way to Bespin._

_It goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway: George owns it all. I own nothing. _

**Chapter 1. Not my Fault**

Han Solo didn't think he was asking for much. He knew better than to expect compliments on his piloting skills from Chewie, and he certainly didn't expect Her High-and-Mighty-ness to acknowledge his brilliance.

But was it too much to expect just a little gratitude, maybe, for saving everyone's life? Twice?

Apparently so.

All he'd gotten from the Falcon's passenger was a reluctant admission that his completely brilliant hidden-in-plain-sight maneuver was "not bad," and a very hasty peck on the cheek. Which was, admittedly, more than he'd expected.

What he hadn't counted on was back talk from Chewie on his decision to head for Bespin to hole up for repairs.

["Bespin? After everything that happened, you want to go to Lando, for help?"]

Han swallowed his own misgivings about Calrissian and put on an unconcerned face. "Yeah, that's where we're going. Bespin. Gimme a hand with the trajectory, will you?" The Wookie folded his massive arms and scowled. "What? You don't approve?"

["I just don't think it's much of a plan."]

Nothing like a Wookie for telling it like he saw it. "Well, that's my plan. Who's the captain around here, anyway?"

Expecting a smart remark from another quarter, he turned around to realize the Princess had left the cockpit at some point.

Hmmph. It was just as well she wasn't here to witness, or worse, participate in, this conversation. It was bad enough having to defend his decisions to Chewie. To do so in her presence would have undermined what little credibility he had in her eyes. It certainly wouldn't do to have her think his copilot was in the habit of questioning his orders. She already had taken to objecting any time he made a decision without consulting her.

He hoped he'd placated Miss "I am not a committee" by letting her think she'd had some say in the choice of Bespin as a destination, but if she caught on that there was a chance Calrissian might not greet them with open arms? He'd have a full-fledged mutiny on his hands.

The less she knew about their history with Lando, the better off he'd be.

"You got another suggestion, I'm happy to hear it."

["If you'd like, I can scan the nearby systems. Perhaps something else will occur to me."]

The innocent tone didn't fool Han for a minute. "Have at it," he snapped back. "You know damned well there's nothing else for parsecs. We're in the middle of nowhere. We got a hold full of scrap metal where there's supposed to be a hyperdrive, and to top it off, we got the half the blasted Imperial Navy on our tail. I'm doin' the best I can."

["I never said you weren't."] The Wookie was silent a long moment, considering. ["I just don't like it. Are you sure you can trust Calrissian?"]

Han gave a snort of disgust. "Who says Calrissian can trust me?" Chewbacca glaced over in surprise and Han rolled his eyes. "Of course I can't trust him, it's Lando. What do you take me for?"

["And yet you're going to ask him for help?"]

"In case you haven't been paying attention, we don't have much choice. Anywhere else we go, we wouldn't have any idea what we were walking into. At least with Lando we know what we're getting."

["A man who doesn't trust you."]

"Credits talk, buddy."

The Wookie heaved a large sigh. ["Yes, and with Lando, credits have a way of talking their way right into his pocket and out of yours."]

"Mine?"

["In this case, ours,"] Chewie went on, determinedly. ["Repairing the hyperdrive is going to cost many credits as it is."]

Subtle, pal. Real subtle. Han had a feeling he knew where this was going. He studied a gauge to his left, turning his back to his copilot. "Yeah, I know the repairs won't be cheap. What's your point?"

["What makes you think you'll get a fair price from Calrissian? How do you plan to pay off the Hutt if you use up all of our credits again?"]

"Enough with 'again', huh?" Han swiveled the chair back to glare at Chewie. "Could you stop blaming me for that? That wasn't my fault."

["That reward was supposed to take care of what we owed Jabba. Instead he's been stewing all this time. And what about all those supply runs we've been making, that barely break even? Or that bottle of wine in your cabin, that cost half our proceeds from the trip to Ord Mandell?"]

"Those supply runs do better than break even, and you know it." It wasn't the first time they'd had this argument, and Solo was not in the mood for it today. Particularly since he suspected that Chewie had a point. "Besides which," he added, defensively, "that bottle of wine didn't come out of our proceeds, it came out of my savings. It's my business how much it cost, not yours." He cast a quick glance at the hatch, as if expecting the Princess to return, and then lowered his voice. "It was expensive because it came from Alderaan, and you knew why I bought it, so you can stop your nagging."

["I know why you bought it. What I want to know is, what are you going to do with it?]

"I'm gonna drink it," Solo growled, losing patience. "And maybe by the time I get to the bottom of the bottle, I'll forget about why I bought it." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice and he knew it was a mistake to let Chewie see how badly he wanted to avoid this topic.

["But what about the Princess?"]

"What about her?"

["Does she know?"]

"No, she doesn't know." Han purposefully misunderstood the question. "Last I checked, the bottle was still in my cabin, and unlike you," he went on, dripping sarcasm, "she doesn't appear to be the type to go digging around in other people's things."

["I didn't mean, does she know about the bottle of wine,"] Chewie knew exactly what topic Solo was avoiding. ["I meant, does she know we're leaving for good this time?"]

Since she never shut up about the topic, Han figured the Wookie knew the answer to that just as well as he did. "Yes, she knows. Why do you think she's been so damn annoyed at me? I got our clearance to go this morning. She ought to be happy we stuck around long enough to get her ass out of there."

["And does she know we could have taken off with the first batch of transports that cleared the shield and been halfway to Tatooine by now? Does she know I sat in that frozen hellhole for another two hours, because you heard the command center was hit and decided to go see if she was still there?"]

"I had a feeling, all right?"

["She doesn't know, does she?"]

"No," snapped Han, irritably, losing patience. "She doesn't know, and even if she did, she wouldn't believe it. Why would she believe I'd go back for her? She thinks I'm leaving because I don't care. About her, about her damn rebellion, or about anything. She thinks I'm in this for the money."

["She thinks that because it's what you tell her. Why are you so angry at her for believing you?"]

"And I should tell her, what, exactly, Chewie? That I want to join up? 'cuz you know better than anyone how well that worked out last time I tried it."

["That was different. You left the Imperial Navy because of the things the Rebellion is fighting to end. Corruption, cruelty..."]

"I left the Imperial Navy," Han cut in, "because they kicked me out." Han's voice was colder than the icy planet they'd left behind and it had the desired effect on his copilot. The Wookie knew full well that saving his life was what had gotten Han court-martialed. "I doubt I'd do any better at taking orders just cuz I was wearing a different uniform. "

Chewbacca got the hint and changed the subject. ["She wasn't going to leave, was she?"]

"No, she wasn't." Han had sworn he was not going to talk about the Princess with Chewie again, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "She's so damned stubborn, she'd have been there till the roof caved in on her."

["She'd be dead if you hadn't gone back for her. Don't you think she knows that?"]

"Yeah, she knows. And she's pissed at me for preventing her from making the ultimate sacrifice for the cause."

Chewie clearly hadn't thought of this possibility. ["You're serious?"]

Solo sighed deeply. "I'm not sure she knows that's why she's mad. But it is."

["Then you were right to worry."]

"Yeah, I was. And it wasn't just me, if you remember. Don't pretend you had any intention of leaving after you heard Rieeken say she wasn't on her transport yet."

["Why do you think Rieeken called you in the first place?"]

Han scowled, having figured this out already for himself. He hadn't decided if he was annoyed at the General for manipulating him into doing his dirty work, or at himself for letting it happen. "I don't know, Chewie. Maybe because she ignored his comm calls just like she was ignoring mine?"

["Maybe because he knows her well enough to know she'd have to be dragged out of there, kicking and screaming?"]

"I know where you're going with this..."

["...and he knows that you love to fight with her."]

"No, I don't."

["You do."]

"Well, maybe a little," Han conceded.

The Wookie chuckled. ["Maybe?"]

"I said," Solo indicated with his thumb and forefinger, "a little."

["Maybe,"] Chewie speculated, ["he called you because you don't care if she's mad at you, and he does."]

"You got that much right. She's always mad at me. What's one more thing?"

["Why not tell her the truth? Perhaps, she would think better of you if she knew."]

"Perhaps I don't care what she thinks?"

["You do care, Solo. Or you would have left a long time ago."]

Han was silent for a long while. "Maybe," he said at last, realizing, reluctantly, that he wasn't being fair to his partner. "I just don't know anymore, Chewie... " he sighed. "I know we gotta do somethin' about Jabba, and I think I'm doing the right thing, leaving... but..." he broke off, at a loss for words.

["But... staying feels right, too?"]

Han heard the challenge in the Wookie's tone but didn't have the energy to be offended. "Yeah, exactly." He blew out his breath slowly and rubbed at his temples, as if he had a headache. "Just seems like no matter what I do, she's gonna hate me for it, Chewie."

["I don't think she hates you at all. It certainly didn't look that way down in the service corridor."]

Han glared at his copilot, immediately on the defensive again. Between Threepio showing up at exactly the wrong moment and Chewie watching the whole thing from the overhead compartment, his private chat with the Princess hadn't turned out to be very private. "She sure ran off awful fast," he said, sourly.

["Perhaps she had second thoughts?"]

Han didn't like the sound of that comment. "About what?"

The Wookie hesitated, clearly not wanting to offend his friend and captain. After a moment's thought, he made a careful suggestion. ["She knows we're leaving. Perhaps she thinks you are merely toying with her."]

Solo's tone, while still defensive, softened a notch. "I'm not toying with her. Not like you mean, at least."

["I know that,"] Chewie said, gently, ["but you said yourself, she knows only that you are leaving, and she may jump to the wrong conclusion about your intentions."]

"Her Highness, jump to the wrong conclusion? Really?" Han's tone was light, but Chewie seemed to take his comment seriously.

["It seems to me that she does that frequently, especially where you are concerned."]

"Yeah," Han said flatly, "she does."

["Perhaps you need to take a different approach.]

"Such as?"

["Tell her about Jabba. Tell her everything. Tell her the truth."]

"I'm not telling her lies."

["You're not telling her the truth, either."]

"It wouldn't matter. We're leaving, remember? You know how likely it is that we'll catch Jabba in a good mood?"

["You don't expect to come back?"]

"Do you?"

There was a long pause before Chewie stated firmly, ["I trust that what is destined to be, will be."]

"Now you're talking like the kid. You really believe in all that destiny crap?"

["Your destiny may be crap, Solo, but mine is not"]

"Destiny's what you make of it, pal."

["Then make something of yours,"] countered the Wookie. Han spun his chair away and became very interested in the coolant levels. Chewie ventured, carefully, ["I could talk to her, if it would help."]

At this, Solo's chair spun around and he aimed a finger at his partner. "Don't you dare. That's an order."

Chewie saw the look in his friend's eyes and fell silent at once.

Left to his own thoughts, Han was disconcerted to find them returning to the Princess.

Was it possible that Chewie was right? Truth was, he really did prefer to beleive that she didn't hate him. He found himself irrationally pleased with the idea.

He'd grown so used to arguing with her that he'd almost convinced himself that they fought because they didn't like each other. But he remembered the look in her eyes when he'd teased her a little while ago, hinting that she liked him because he was a scoundrel. The antagonism he'd grown used to was missing, and he wondered just how accurate his assessment had been. Maybe she really did like him. And maybe that was exactly why.

The mood had definitely changed between them, just since yesterday, when she'd sputtered at him in fury and indignation, calling him a "scruffy-looking nerfherder." Han smiled to himself at the memory. So much had happened since they'd left Hoth, it didn't seem possible that it had been less than one standard day ago that they'd stood in Luke's room in the medcenter.

Hmmph. Luke. Wonder what Chewie thought about Luke and the princess? Nope. Not going there.

Maybe she really did have a thing for the kid. The kid sure had a thing for her. But no... he'd never gotten any hint that she returned Luke's affections in anything but a friendly way. He was pretty sure she'd kissed Luke just to make him jealous, but it was always possible he'd missed the mark completely.

He thought maybe she felt differently about him.

He couldn't be sure, because that damn droid had barged in just when things were getting interesting. But there'd been something new in her eyes, for a moment. Provoking her into an argument had always been the best way to get a reaction from her, but kissing her had worked out quite well, too. Perhaps he was growing on her, after all. Before today he'd have guessed Hoth was more likely to warm up than she was.

["Han?"] Chewie's gentle growl interrupted Solo's thoughts.

"Yeah?"

["The lights are on, in the forward cargo hold."] Chewie pointed to a display to his right. ["I think that might be where the Princess is."]

"You got a point, or are you just really bored?"

["She's been gone a long time."]

Solo looked around, as if he'd just noticed this. "And?"

["And, I am wondering why, that's all."]

"Who knows why she does anything?"

Taking a different tactic, the Wookie added, casually, ["The course to Bespin is set. It will be a long journey, at sublight. Over three standard weeks."] A pause. ["The princess will not be pleased to be delayed for so long."]

Han sighed "No, she most certainly will not. Ought to be a fun trip for everyone."

["You could try improving her mood instead of antagonizing her.]

Han cast a suspicious look at his partner. "And how do you suggest I do that?"

["A peace offering, perhaps? It's pretty cold down in the cargo hold. Maybe she'd like some kaffe?"]

Han chuckled at the Wookie's innocent tone. "You're playing matchmaker."

["I'm playing peacemaker,"] Chewie corrected. ["It will be a long trip indeed for me if you two are arguing the entire time"]

Solo gave a snort of amusement. "Didn't you just tell me, arguing is what we do best?"

["Fine. Just don't drag me into it again."]

"All right, you win. I'll go talk to her." Han got up. "But if she slaps me, I'm holding you responsible."

["If you can't keep your hands to yourself, Solo, you deserve to be slapped."]

The Wookie's laughter followed him as he headed for the galley to see if there was any kaffe left.

He wasn't at all sure this was a good idea, but he figured Chewie was right about one thing.

Three weeks was a long time.


	2. What Do You Want From Me?

_Thanks for the reviews, there's lots more to upload, and you're giving me some motivation._

_I'm still figuring out how to get my documents working right, and I reloaded this chapter this morning with the corrected version which includes the formatting now and a few small tweaks I'd made after I uploaded it. _

_3/5 - a few additional tweaks_

**Chapter 2. What Do You Want From Me?**

Alone in the forward cargo hold, Leia Organa shivered and hugged herself, trying to stay warm. The sudden silence that had descended when the hatch closed told her that the air circulators weren't functioning in this compartment. Still clad in cold weather gear, it had taken her several minutes more to notice just how cold the stale air was, and to realize that the compartment wasn't heated, either. She wondered if this was intentional, or if the heating system was down elsewhere as well - another of the many malfunctions of the day. The Falcon seemed have them in endless supply.

It was something of a miracle that they'd made it this far. A miracle, and some of Captain Solo's infamous luck.

How much of his "luck" was actually "luck"? She suspected some credit went to his quick reflexes, cunning, and excellent piloting skills. She wasn't about to admit anything of the sort in his hearing, though. The man's ego was already two sizes too large.

She massaged her throbbing temples, and longed to be somewhere else. She didn't much care where, at this point. She'd take pretty much anywhere else, so long as it was far away from Han Solo. Far away from him, and his rattletrap ship, and his teasing words, and his lopsided grin... and his lips, slow and sweet against hers.

Gods. She didn't want to think about Han Solo anymore.

Not that she had ever wanted to think about him, mind you.

Right. Who was she kidding? She'd been thinking about him, one way or another, since the day they'd met. Despite his insoucient attitude and his inflated sense of self worth - or perhaps, she had to admit, because of them - he'd grown on her. He was not like anyone she'd ever known. She found herself frustrated, infuriated, and fascinated by him. Sometimes all three at the same time.

Not to mention that he was rakishly handsome - if one liked the rugged, scruffy, type. Which, it appeared, she did.

_'You don't need to be looking at him at all, Leia,_' she told herself, firmly. _'He's doing enough looking for the both of us.'_

She could see him, in her mind's eye, just the other day, watching her the whole time he'd been talking to General Rieeken about leaving. He'd been talking to Carlist, but the show was for her. He'd known she was watching him... he always knew. Her eyes were drawn to him the moment he walked into the room. And once he had her attention, every move he made was calculated for maximum effect.

She supposed she should learn to ignore him. But she just couldn't help herself. He knew where all of her buttons were and he never failed to push them, at every opportunity.

He'd been saying he was leaving since the day she'd met him. But... he kept NOT leaving. Over the years, she'd imagined his leaving a thousand times, usually with great pleasure, when they'd just finished one of their more heated arguments. But lately she had started to think that perhaps, he really might stay. And that this might be a good thing after all.

Why did it bother her so, that casual, "guess this is it, Princess," crack? Because it was so cold... so public? Looking back, of course, she knew he'd done it on purpose, prodding her into a reaction in front of everyone in the command center. And she'd fallen right into the trap. Gods, what had she been thinking, chasing after him like that? It was beneath her dignity.

After all this time, he shouldn't have been able to catch her off guard like that.

How did he do it? How did he drive her to do these foolish things? He'd flash that lopsided smirk and make some sarcastic or suggestive comment and the next thing she knew, her capacity for logical thinking had gone straight down the garbage chute.

Her current situation was a perfect example. How in space had she ended up here?

She had steeled herself, this morning, for the possibility that she might not escape from Hoth alive. She could have departed on the first transport with the rest of the High Command. But she'd insisted on being assigned to the same transport as the rest of the command center staff. Bail Organa hadn't brought her up to run for cover at the first sign of trouble, or to think she was more important than the people who reported to her.

General Rieeken had only agreed to leave for his own transport assignment because they'd assured him there would be room for the last Princess of Alderaan as well. She'd shooed Carlist on his way, and then gone back to work. The transport crew had called the command cneter twice from the hanger, reminding her of their launch window. No one admitted it, but she knew he was in the cockpit, insisting that they wait for her. The third and final comm call had come to her private code, and it had been Carlist. "Won't you come to the transport now?" he'd pleaded. "There's not much more time."

"There are ten of us still here in the command center, is there room for all of us?"

"You know there's not."

"Then I will not explain to my staff why I'm leaving them here to defend the base while I use my connections to get on an earlier transport."

"Princess, those Walkers will be at the main power generators in fifteen minutes. Once the shield's down, the base won't be secure."

"It's a war, Carlist. Nowhere is secure."

"If Ion Control falls, the transports will be helpless against that blockade."

"There are still plenty of personal craft in the hangar, Carlist. We'll be fine."

"All right, I know better than to order you to abandon your post. Be safe, Lelia," he added quietly, using her childhood nickname. "May the Force be with you. Rieeken out."

"And with you, Carlist. Organa out."

And then, twenty minutes later, still in the command center, mentally mapping her way to an exit in case the power generators went down before they had evacuated the room, she'd looked up from her console to find Solo picking his way through the rubble. His familiar features were creased with worry and concern. He caught her eye and held it as he closed in on her, and for a moment she'd forgotten to breathe. She'd lashed out at him, furious beyond words that after all his complaints, he was still here. The rest of the base was trying to evacuate and the man who'd been threatening to leave for years was still here.

And then those words had come over the intercom: "Imperial Troops have entered the base." She went cold with remembered terror as the room rocked from a series of nearby explosions. Her resolve crumbled at the thought of being captured again. No. She couldn't let that happen.

Large pieces of the icy roof crashed to the floor and Solo suddenly took action, grabbing her arm and dragging her, bodily, out of the cavern.

Cut off from her transport, she'd been sure they were both going to be buried alive in the rubble. But instead, here she was, on the Falcon. Headed, not for the rendezvous, but for Bespin.

In a valiant attempt to distract herself from thoughts of Solo, she tried to estimate how long it would take them to get to Bespin. She wasn't exactly sure how far it was or how much speed the ship was capable of attaining right now. A week, at least, she decided. Maybe a bit more.

Bespin. Who'd look for her on Bespin? Who'd look for her at all? Did anyone on the transport even know that they'd made it out of the Hoth system safely? Carlist must be beside himself with worry and she knew they couldn't contact him yet. Surely the Empire would be monitoring communications in this sector. Perhaps when they got to Bespin they could attempt a secured transmission.

How long would it take to repair the ship once they got there? Gods, how long was she going to be trapped with this man?

_Stop it, Leia! _she chided herself firmly. _It doesn't matter how long you're stuck with him, you're just going to leave him the hell alone. You're not going to encourage him and you most certainly are not going to let him kiss you again._

Hmmph. Who said he even wanted to kiss her again?

That's what this was about, of course. That's why she was sitting down here all alone in the belly of a rattletrap freighter, wishing with all her heart to be somewhere else. She wasn't thinking rationally and it was all his fault.

He'd flipped the table on her today, upped the ante in this confusing game they were playing. She was definitely in over her head. Too much was at risk.

She'd made this choice already, a long time ago. Romance was for other women. She didn't have time to waste on personal attachments. Getting involved with anyone would be a distraction she couldn't afford at this point in her life.

She didn't want the emotional entaglement of a relationship. And she certainly didn't want one with a man like Solo... a man who couldn't commit to anything or anyone.

So, why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

The sound of the hatch cycling open startled her, and she turned to see Solo himself standing a meter away from her in the entryway. It was uncanny, almost as if her mind dwelling on him for so long had summoned him here somehow.

Once again, her emotions betrayed her. She knew the surge of happiness she felt at seeing him standing there was completely ridiculous. She wanted him to leave her alone, damn it. She was absolutely not happy to see him. And yet... was that a smile she felt, slowly creeping across her face?

Damn it. She was irrationally pleased that he'd come looking for her.

"Hey," he said, cautiously, as though he half expected her to hurl something at him.

"Hey," she replied, trying for cool, aloof, and distant. She cursed inwardly when she heard the tremor in her voice. She hugged herself tightly, trying to control the involuntary shudder she felt and hoping to disguise her discomfort as temperature related.

He saw the shiver. "You all right? It's awfully cold down here."

"I'm fine."

"Then..." he drawled, slowly, "you wouldn't be interested in some fresh kaffe?" His hands came out from behind his back, and he revealed the two mugs and large thermal flask he was carrying.

"No." The response was automatic.

"No?"

"No, thank you."

"You've been avoiding me."

The smell of kaffe wafting her way was swiflty eroding her defenses. "I wouldn't say that. I just needed some time to myself."

"You can't hide down here forever."

"I wasn't planning to." A plaintive tone crept into her voice. "Why can't you just leave me be?"

The last thing she expected was for him to do as she asked. But it appeared Solo was out of patience already. "You want to be alone? Fine. Sit down here and freeze. I'm sure Chewie'll drink the kaffee. Sorry I bothered you." He turned back toward the hatch.

And suddenly, she realized that she didn't want him to leave.

"No," she heard herself say, very softly. "Don't go."

He stopped and cocked his head to peer at her, curiously. "You sure?"

She swallowed hard and took the plunge. "Yeah. I'm sure. Now that you mention it, it is kinda cold down here." He looked hopeful. "Come on, sit. Give me some of that kaffe." She patted the crate beside her, and at that invitation, Solo shook himself and sat down. Settling the carafe of kaffe on the crate, he poured her a mug full of hot liquid and held it out to her.

Under her nose now, the scent of the kaffe was irresistible. Cupping her hands around the mug, she savored the welcoming warmth it gave to her cold fingers. "Mmmm..." she sighed, blissfully, taking a long sip. It was freezing down here and the warm drink felt even better than she'd expected.

Her mood already improved, she offered him a tentative smile over the rim of her mug. "Thank you, Han." He looked so pleased with himself that she was inspired to tease him a little. "Bringing kaffe was a very nice thing to do. Are you trying to convince me you actually are a nice man?"

He grinned. "A scoundrel can't bring you kaffe?"

"A scoundrel would expect payment."

His grin widened and he shifted closer to nudge her hip meaningfully. "Who says I'm not expecting payment, sweetheart?"

She laughed and shoved, playfully, at his arm. "I knew it was too good to be true, Captain." Then she sobered. "What are you doing down here, really?"

His eyes widened in feigned innocence. "What do you mean? This isn't the warmest spot on the ship. I thought you might want some kaffe." She raised an eyebrow. "And, maybe," he allowed, grudgingly, "maybe, I wanted a chance to talk to you, alone."

She was skeptical. "But how'd you know where to find me?"

He gestured with his mug toward the ceiling. "Lights have been on down here for almost an hour. Chewie figured either you were hiding out or we had a stowaway."

"Or the lights were malfunctioning?"

He gave her a wounded look. "Now, Your Highness, that's not fair."

"Hmmph," she sniffed. "Seems like everything else on this ship's broken." She'd been insulting his ship all day, what was he suddenly so upset about? "Speaking of which, it's like ice in here. Don't tell me we've lost climate control, too?"

"course not," he scoffed. "Supposed to be cold down here. How else am I gonna keep all this stuff from spoiling?"

Surprised, she looked down at the crate they sat on. "Spoiling?"

"It's food, sweetheart," he replied, patiently. "Some fresh stuff, a little meat, vegetables, and plenty of the Alliance favorite, ration packs."

She widened her eyes, suddenly understanding, and turned on her perch, taking in the size of the hold and the number of bins it contained. "All of it?"

Han nodded. "We may get bored, and if we run low on power, it might start to get a little chilly upstairs, but we won't starve." He leaned back against his crate and pointed a finger at her. "And I know what you're thinking. Well, it's not stolen. I bought every bit of it with my own credits. It's a long trip to Tatooine, and there's no telling how long we'll be once we get there."

She frowned. How did he read her so easily? She had, indeed, been about to make a comment about contraband. And in his casual comment about the journey he'd planned, she was reminded that this... whatever it was... had a built-in time limit. "That's right," she said icily. "I'd forgotten our little side trip interrupted your leaving."

"This little side trip," he fired back, "probably saved your life."

This brought her up short and she stared at him for a long minute, not sure whether he was serious. "Are you waiting to be thanked, Captain?"

His annoyance vanished in an instant and he flashed a lopsided grin. "That'd be a switch. Usually all my rescues get is criticism."

"Rescue? That's what you call this?"

"Well, pardon me, your Holiness," he began, in that infuriating drawl.

She cut him off by saying, in a low voice, "I thought I asked you not to call me that."

"I'm sorry, Princess," he corrected, stressing the title, and not sounding contrite at all, "we could always skip Bespin. Would you prefer to head back to Hoth and see if the Imperial Fleet's finished there?"

"No, thank you," she replied, shuddering involuntarily. If she never saw another Star Destroyer, it would be too soon. "But that's hardly the point, Captain."

Unexpectedly, he backed down. "I didn't come down here to fight with you, Leia," he sighed, wearily. She closed her mouth, as surprised by his casual use of her first name as by his sudden retreat. "It's going to be a long couple of weeks to Bespin if we spend it fighting."

"Couple of weeks?" she echoed, unable to hide her dismay at this news.

"Two at least, maybe three." He shrugged. "At sublight that's the best we can do." He raised his arms in mock surrender. "Hey, it's not my fault!"

"I know," she said, quietly. "I'm sorry. I..." She took a deep breath. "I know you're doing the best you can. Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're welcome. I'll send you a bill when this is over."

"I'm sure you will," she muttered. "Well-padded, as usual." That's what it was always about for him, wasn't it? Getting paid. Why did he have to keep reminding her?

"Unless your Highness-ness would prefer to pay in advance," he offered, giving her his best leer. "In which case, maybe we can negotiate the fee."

She set down her mug and folded her arms, slipping unconciously back into their usual bickering mode. "This trip doesn't improve soon, I may demand a refund, Captain."

"We don't do refunds. Princess," he stated, firmly, "especially for unscheduled passengers. I'm sorry if the accomodations aren't what you're used to." He grinned suddenly. "But we might be able to upgrade you a bit. How do you feel about sharing?"

Unbidden, an image came to her mind, of tangled sheets and entwined limbs, and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. "That won't be necessary, I'll be fine in the lounge." The couches in the Falcon's lounge converted to bunks, but from experience, she knew they weren't much more comfortable than the cot she'd left behind in the women's quarters on Hoth.

He laughed out loud. "There are plenty of bunks in the crew cabin, sweetheart, you don't need to sleep in the lounge. It'll just be awfully friendly in there. Only the one 'fresher, you know. I'm sure you're used to more privacy." His eyes were twinkling as she looked up sharply, and she cursed herself for rising to his bait. She'd assumed exactly what he'd meant for her to assume. "'course, if you're gonna be crew, we'll expect you to do your part. You gonna take your turn in the galley?"

Leia had no illusions about her culinary skills, and she made a face. "I suspect you'd be wise to leave me off the galley roster, Captain. Perhaps there's some other way I can help."

Grinning wickedly, he quipped. "I'm sure we can think of something." She flushed and his grin got wider. "We can always use a good cabin stewardess." Before she could come up with a suitable retort, he studied her grubby white fatigues and added, "You're not really dressed for the part, though."

"Sorry, Solo, my bags are on the transport, on their way to the rendezvous without me. So this is as good as it gets." She tried to sound cavalier about it, but it was sobering to realize that this wasn't even the first time she'd been in this position. Stuck on the Falcon with nothing more than the clothes on her back. It was a thouroughly disturbing trend.

"I'm sorry, Leia." His apologetic tone caught her off guard. "I didn't even think of that."

Taking a deep interest in the fraying hem of her vest, she looked away from his earnest gaze. Casually, she asked, "Could I run this stuff through the auto valet, at least, before I start to smell?"

Expecting him to pounce on this obvious opening for a smart remark, she was surprised yet again when he answered, with a sour expression, "Trust me, sweetheart, it would take a lot longer than three weeks for you to compete with Chewie in the smell department. But you're welcome to the auto valet any time. You don't have to ask."

She looked sideways at him, suspicious of this uncharacteristic generousity. "What's the hitch? It doesn't work?"

"It works fine," he relied defensively. "And I'd like to keep it that way, if you don't mind."

"If you're worried I'll break your precious ship, then, you can do the laundry."

"Nah, you can handle it." He wasn't about to get drawn into that. "Just don't mess with anything in the cockpit or down in the maintenance bay unless one of us is with you. Otherwise, I trust you." She raised an eyebrow, not sure if this was a compliment or not. Casually, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "And I can probably scrounge up something else for you to wear besides that snow suit. There's all kinds of stuff in the lockers in the bunk room, take whatever you need."

She sniffed disainfully, imagining a string of woman passing through the Falcon's bunk room over the years and abandoning their clothing. "I can't imagine that anything you have in those lockers is likely to fit me, Captain. I thought you preferred your women taller."

"Oh, I like 'em all sizes, sweetheart."

Well, she'd walked into that one, hadn't she? "Scoundel, through and through," she laughed, shaking her head.

His expression softened. "Nah, I told you, Princess. I'm a nice man."

"Sometimes, I guess, you are." She smiled up at him, which was a mistake, because he took it as an invitation. He lowered his head, and his lips hovered only centimeters from her own. She turned her head away at the last second and he got a mouthful of hair.

He made a face and tucked the stray strands behind her ear. "Just sometimes?" he asked, softly, cupping her cheek and lifting her chin to face him. His fingers were cool against her skin.

"Sometimes you're as far from nice as it's possible to be," she said, wryly.

"You mean up in the service bay, earlier? I didn't hear you complaining." She flushed and turned her head away from his hand. "Come on, Princess," he teased, "admit it. You like it when I don't behave."

"Well... " she stammered, hating herself for being so obvious. "I guess... I'll admit it keeps things interesting."

Interesting? Ha. More like amazing, the voice in her head whispered. His kiss had curled her toes and left her trembling. She'd been kissed before, but never like that. And she was pretty sure he knew it.

"Interesting? Would you like me to try again? I'm sure I can do better than 'interesting'."

Better? She felt the heat from her cheeks spread down her neck as she wondered, for just a moment, what 'better' might be like.

Gods, what was she doing? He was immensely more experienced at this game than she was.

Taking her inaction for the tacit approval that she knew it was, he traced a line, very softly, with his index finger, along her jaw and up toward her ear. She had to remind herself to breathe.

"You are..." she whispered, not trusting her voice, "more... interesting... and more confusing... than any man I've ever met."

"How so?"

"Well..." she said, very slowly, realizing she hadn't ever really put it into words. "Not only are you completely unimpressed with the fact that I'm a princess, but you seem to see it as something of a drawback."

He smiled ruefully. "Of course it's a drawback. You ever heard of a guy like me, and a princess? Didn't they teach you in princess school not to associate with scoundrels?"

"Yes, they did," she laughed, "but I never was much good at doing what I was told."

"You know, I've noticed that about you." He smiled at her and then reached over to take her hand and lift it to his lips. "It's one of your more interesting qualities." She laughed, acknowledging the dig. "So, since you find scoundrels so interesting, why not get to know one a little better?"

She pulled her hand back and shook her head. "I'm not so sure that would be a good idea."

The wicked glint returned to his eyes. "Trust me, Princess. It's an excellent idea."

She grew serious. "No, Han, it's not."

He cocked his head, sensing her change in mood. "Why's that?"

"Because, it doesn't appear I'll have a scoundrel in my life much longer, now, does it?"

His smile vanished. "No, I guess you won't."

"So, tell me, Han. What good does it do me, to wonder just why it is that I am so fond of this one particular scoundrel?"

"Fond?" he asked, with a grin, causing her to immediately regret her choice of words.

"Yes," she said mildly, ignoring his insinuation. "Fond." She looked away. "What do you care? You're leaving, remember?"

He sobered. "Don't say it like that. I have to go, Leia. The longer I put it off, the harder it's going to be."

"But you've been happy to put it off so long already. Why did you change your mind now?"

He looked down at her, his eyes still serious. "I didn't know, before, how high the bounty was. How many people were gunning for me. It's worse than I imagined. I don't dare go near the Core worlds again, not unless I'm looking to be ambushed."

"Then why not stay, Han? You could join the Alliance and disappear. You wouldn't be the first."

"I'm not so sure that I could disappear quite so easily as you think, but it doesn't matter. It's not just about me. Chewie can't disappear. He has a family, a wife, a son, back on Kyshhak. There's a bounty on Chewie, too. And that puts them in danger."

She hadn't thought of that.

"And," he said, slowly, "I know you aren't going to beleive this part... but even though I haven't sworn any oaths of alliegence to the Alliance, I've made a lot of friends there. I wouldn't want to be responsible if some bounty hunter leads the Empire to your door. They find me, they find you."

She wanted, desperately, to beleive he really did care. She knew her emotions were plain on her face and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

"Leia," he sighed. "don't you get it? That bounty hunter didn't know who you were, or he'd have known the price on your head is just as high as the one on mine. You just got in his way."

"If I hadn't been in his way, you'd be dead."

"Yeah, well, better me than you."

She turned her face away from him, shaking off his hand. "So, you made up your mind, why didn't you just go?" she asked, in a low voice. "You had your clearance to go this morning. I assumed you'd gone. I didn't expect to ever see you again." She knew he heard her unspoken thought, that she had wanted to see him again, and she cursed herself for being so transparent. "I'm grateful you and Chewie were able to evacuate me since my transport left without me, but why were you still there?"

"I was gonna go... and then we heard the command center was hit," he replied, and she was surprised to hear an undertone of embarrassement in his voice. "I had to come see for myself." His eyes met hers and his tone softened. "I was worried, Leia, all right? I couldn't just leave... not without knowing if you were safe."

Oh, he was good. He knew exactly what buttons to push. Damn him. Her frustration spilled out and edged her closer to anger, and she willed her voice to be steady. "I can't do this anymore, Han." Furious with herself for losing control, she snapped at him, more harshly than she'd intended. "Tell me what you want, or let me be. "

He was clearly puzzled by her sudden outburst. "Why're you so mad?"

"You're leaving," she said, patiently. "Nothing I say could possibly change your mind. You've made that perfectly clear. And yet you come back, because you're WORRIED about me? And now here we are, stuck together for a couple of weeks, and you decide it's time to make a move?"

He reeled back as if she'd struck him. "That's not..."

She cut him off, her voice sharp now with anger and pain. "That's not what you were doing?" She glared at him. "What was that, then, up in the service bay?"

He recovered quickly from his shock at her anger. "Honey, if you don't know what that was, then you're worse off than I thought," he quipped. Ignoring her furious glare, he added, "You looked like you needed a good kiss."

"I thought you said you weren't interested."

"And you said you'd rather kiss a Wookie. Shall I call Chewie to come down here and take over?"

"No," she said, softly, averting her eyes. "It turns out I rather liked kissing a scoundrel."

"Well, good. I'm sure Chewie'd be willing, but I'm not sure his wife would approve."

She lifted her chin and glared at him. "Can't you be serious for a single moment, Captain?"

"Oh, I'm serious, sweetheart," he drawled. "You have no idea how serious I am."

"No," she said, coldly, "I don't. Why don't you tell me? Just how serious are you? Or is this all just a game to you?"

"I'm not playing games, Leia."

"Then what are you doing?"

He looked down at his hands and was silent for far longer than she expected. "I'm trying," he said, at last, "not to hurt you."

Something twisted in her heart. "Have you considered that maybe it's too late for that?"

With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair. "If so, then I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she repeated, incredulous. "That's supposed to make me feel better? That you're sorry?"

"No," he said, his voice going up a notch. "No, it probably doesn't make you feel better. And it doesn't make me feel any better either, if you want the truth. But it's all there is to say. If I hurt you, Leia, then I'm sorry. That's not what I want, not what I... it's not what I ever meant to do. Why do you always think the worst of me?"

"Not always," she said, her tone softening. "Sometimes I think you're a very nice man."

He wasn't amused by her attempt at a joke. "Now who's playing games, Highnessness?"

"I'm not... I'm not playing games. I just want to know what you want from me, Han!"

"I don't know what the hell I want anymore. Gods, what is it with women? Why's there always have to be a reason for everything?" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and shook his head against the heel of his hand. "All I know is I can't give you what you want."

"How is that you know what I want, when I don't?"

"I know you better than you think."

"So what is it that I want?"

"You want forever. You want a man who'll make a committment, a man who'll join up and take that oath... a man who'll be there when you need him. And I'm not that man." An odd look crossed his face. "I wish I could tell you I'd stay. But I can't, and you know that as well as I do."

She shook her head, taken aback by this sudden burst of honesty. "I swear, you NEVER say what I expect you to say."

A quick smile creased his face, but it was gone a moment later. "I'm sorry it's not what you want to hear. But I don't make promises, Leia, not when I don't know if I can keep them."

"I know you don't," she said, gently. "If you were the kind of man who made empty promises, I wouldn't be so fond of you."

"Maybe," he sighed, "I would be that kind of man, if you weren't so fond of me."

She heard a note of resignation in his voice that, combined with the dejected slump to his shoulders, left her unexpectedly touched. "No," she said, softly. "I don't think you've ever been that kind of man." He met her gaze and she added, with a wistful smile, "Don't be so hard on yourself, Han."

Without thinking, she reached over, hesitantly, to brush his cheek with her fingers. She found herself fascinated by the texture of his stubbled jaw, and she opened her hand to cup his cheek. In response, he turned his face to press his lips against her palm. Her pulse fluttered at the contact and she drew her hand away, slowly.

He leaned in, his breath warm on her cheek. "What about you, sweetheart?" he whispered. "How serious are you?"

She shrugged, unable to answer.

"Talk to me, Leia. Am I wrong? What do you want?"

"I wish I knew," she admitted. "You make my head spin sometimes."

"Why s that?

"Because... oh, because you make me so angry sometimes. You can be so stubborn, and so irritating, and so bossy." Then she looked away, feeling her cheeks flushing again. "Then just when I'm furious with you, you turn around and you're charming and funny... half the time I can't decide if I want to kill you or kiss you."

"If I get a vote, I'd go with 'kiss'," he grinned.

She looked up at him, exasperated. "That s not the point."

"So what is the point?"

"The point is the point is every time I think I ve got you figured out, you go and change the rules!"

His expression grew serious again. "You think you ve got me figured out, eh?"

"No", she said, softly. "I don t think I ll ever understand you." She sighed again, and he smiled down at her.

"You want to understand me?" he asked, curiously.

"Yes," she said, in a whisper. "I do."

"Why?"

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I don't know why, that's the problem!" A single tear spilled down her cheek and she wiped at it, hastily, with her sleeve. "It's all so confusing!"

He reached out and brushed at the corner of her eye with his thumb. "Don't," he said, softly.

She swallowed hard . "I liked it, when you kissed me, Han," she admitted, in a low voice. "I liked being reminded that I'm a woman."

"Well," he said, gently, "I liked reminding you." His thumb trailed down her cheekbone. "So we kissed, and we both liked it. What's wrong with that? Why are you confused, sweetheart?"

"Because you're **leaving**, damn it! It doesn't matter if I like kissing you, I don't get to decide, do I? We both know this can't go anywhere."

"Why can't it, Leia?" His voice was a low rumble. "I can't promise to come back after this trip is over. But that doesn't stop me from liking it while it lasts." He sighed, deeply. "I've tried 'forever', sweetheart. It's not all it's cracked up to be."

She looked up in surprise. Just what did that mean?

He saw her look and evaded the question she hadn't asked. "Long time ago. Doesn't matter now." She had never heard regret in his voice before, and she wasn't sure how to handle this suddenly meloncholy Solo.

Before she thought of something to say, his eyes cleared and the moment passed. His teasing tone returned. "I can tell you this, honey. 'Just for now' is a damn sight better than 'never'. Trust me, you wouldn't be disappointed."

Her heart flipped over at the sensual purr in his voice. She knew exactly what he meant, and if one kiss had had this much effect on her, she didn't doubt for an instant that he was right about 'just for now' being pretty damn good. Han Solo would be an experience worth remembering. But if it was worth remembering, it was worth repeating. And the repeating would be the problem, once he left for good.

She couldn't risk it.

"No," she swallowed hard and made herself look away. "But I'd be temporary."

"That's what you think, huh?"

She lifted her chin and this time she met his eyes. "Am I wrong?"

"No," he sighed, at last, "I guess you aren't."

Well, there she had it. Had she really expected a different answer? "Well, then," she blew out her breath, slowly, "I guess we're in agreement."

"Agreement? Surely not." His grin was fleeting and she had to smile. "Agreement 'bout what?"

"We agree," she insisted, firmly, "that this is a bad idea."

"No, we agree that **you** think this is a bad idea. I still think it's an excellent idea."

"I can't, Han. I just can't."

"You can't what? What are you so afraid of, Leia?"

"I'm not afraid," she protested.

"Yeah," he said, softly, "you are. But not letting yourself care isn't the way to keep from getting hurt."

"How would you know?"

"I know, Leia. It hurts whether you want it to or not. Just 'cuz it's gonna end doesn't mean it wouldn't be a hell of a ride while it lasted."

Her face closed down. She'd had enough of playing games, enough innuendo. "I am not interested in a hell of a ride, Captain. And I will not," she said, through clenched teeth, "be just another notch on your damned bedpost. Is that clear enough for you?"

Her angry words failed to dissuade him. In fact, they seemed to have the opposite effect, as his expression softened again. "You could never be "just another" anything, Leia." He slid his hand inside the collar of her shirt and his thumb traced a slow line from her throat to her ear. His fingers slid into the knot at the base of her neck and held her still as he gazed into her eyes. His voice was husky. "Never."

Before she could say anything, his hungry mouth came down on hers and he was kissing her, hard. Blood pounded in her ears. She put her hands flat against his chest and tried to extract herself from his embrace. Breathless, she gasped, "Han, stop. Please..."

He leaned in closer and she pushed, hard, against his chest, scrambling to her feet and moving out of reach. "No." He caught her arm and tried to pull her back into his embrace. "No!" She said it louder this time and he stopped tugging at her arm, although he didn't relinquish her hand.

"Don't run away, Princess."

"Let me go."

"No."

"I said," she yanked harder, "let me **go**, Solo." She swung at his face, trying to slap him, and he caught her wrist. She continued to struggle and he tugged at both hands now, urging her to turn around.

"Leia, will you look at me? Please?" She went very still. She'd never heard him say "please" before.

He released her hands immediately and she sat down, on the far corner of the crate, as far from him as she could get. She leaned forward, her head in her hands. He put his hand, very gently, on her shoulder. "Leia?"

She willed herself to be calm. "Don't ever, ever, do that again." She heard her voice trembling and hated that she was letting him see how deeply he'd affected her.

"I'm sorry, Leia," he said, sounding sincere. "I..." he took a breath. "I shouldn't have done that. Don't be angry." He held out his arm, tentatively, motioning her closer. "C'mere." She shook her head, and he coaxed, "Come on. I promise I'll behave." She looked up, smiling, unexpectedly, at this. "What, you don't beleive me?"

"Captain, I don't think you **know **how to behave," she laughed. Knowing it was a mistake, she slid closer. He let his arm drop around her shoulders and with a long sigh, she leaned in and let her head rest against his ribcage. It felt nice. The solid warmth of him beside her was reassuring, which made no sense at all.

He leaned down and pressed his cheek against her hair and his voice was infinitely sad. "I'm so sorry, Leia."

"Don't be," she sighed. "Don't be sorry. It's too late for sorry. Just hold me, please?"

She turned her face into his chest and his arms closed around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Leia," he repeated, his breath warm in her ear. "I wish... I wish things could be different, between us. "

"You do? Really?"

"Really." he nodded, and she felt him smile against her temple. "Although this isn't bad, right now."

She looked up, with a watery smile of her own. "No, it's not. But I doubt you'd settle for this," she nudged him with her shoulder, "for very long."

"You're probably right about that."

"I'm sorry, too, Han," she said softly, "But I can't do this and just walk away."

"Sure you can," he said dryly, "I do it all the time."

She frowned, and then realized her was teasing her. "Maybe you can, but I can't."

"I know," he said simply. "I know." He blew out a long breath. "So, then, tell me this. How far are you willing to go?" She raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Leia. You know what I mean. You want this?" he squeezed her shoulder, "fine, you can have this anytime you want. But what else do you want?" She was silent. "I promise, I won't try to push you again. But if you won't tell me where you've drawn the line, I'm going to keep blundering across it."

"Oh, Han," She realized she didn't know where the line was, any more than he did. "I guess... I want you to be my friend. We haven't exactly been friends up till now, we've been... I don't know what we've been. But we haven't been friends."

He sighed. "You sayin' that's my fault?"

"No," she hesitated. "It's as much me as you. I'm not used to having scoundrels as friends," she tried to lighten the sudden tension between them. He smiled, understanding.

"Never thought I'd have a princess for a friend, either."

"A lot of the time, you're fun to be with, and you're kind, and you make me laugh. It's nice, to have someone to make me laugh. Everyone expects me to be so serious all the time. I'm not used to..."

"Not used to having fun?" he finished for her, curiously. She thought for a moment and then nodded in agreement.

"I don't want to fight with you, Han. I'm so tired of fighting."

He smiled. "No, you're not. And neither am I. It's what we do best."

She laughed, unexpectedly amused by the truth of his observation. "Well, then, maybe we need to get better at the making up part." She lifted her head and kissed his chin. "This is so nice," she said, quietly. "Every now and then, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like it very much if you would hold me, just like this."

"I can do that," he said, lightly. "Anytime you want." She tucked her head back into the hollow of his shoulder, and sighed, contentedly. For a long moment they sat there in silence, together.

"How about if I kiss you?" he asked, laying his hand along her cheek and turning her face up toward his. "Every now and then? Like this?" He kissed her, then, very gently, his lips brushing hers for just an instant. Then he drew away, leaving her with her head tipped back against his shoulder, her lips still parted expectantly. His breath was warm against her cheek, as he finished, "Would that be all right?"

It was more than all right. She was tingling all over. If he kissed her again, she was going to forget why this was a bad idea and climb right back into his lap. She opened her eyes, and turned her head away from his gaze. "That's nice, too," she said, in a shaking voice. "You could do that, I guess, every now and then." She blew out a long, uneven breath and decided to throw propriety and innuendo to the winds. "But I'm not sleeping with you."

Again she waited for the mocking grin, the smart remark. And again he surprised her. He looked down at her for a long moment, and then he nodded, slowly, accepting her words for what they were. "All right, then. You've drawn the line and I won't cross it again. But you let me know if that line moves, sweetheart, I'll be right here, waiting."

She was silent, and at last she pulled free of his embrace and stood, in front of him. She caught both of his hands in hers. "It's freezing down here, let's go upstairs. You can show me the accomodations. And I really want to see this mysterious woman's clothing you claim to have hidden away."

"Who said it was women's clothing? I think I traded for some cloaks with a Jawa once."

"Is that a short joke?"

"Hey, if the hood fits, Princess."

"Come on, Captain. Friends?" she asked, softly, at tugging his hands.

"Yeah," he said, letting her pull him to his feet. "Friends." He pulled her in against him for a moment and breathed in her scent. He nudged her with his hips and she felt his lingering arousal. "You're sure about the not-sleeping-with-me thing, huh?"

The little-boy hopeful tone in his voice amused her and she gave a very un-princess-like giggle. "Yes, I'm sure! You are such a nerf herder."

He gathered up the carafe and the mugs and hand in hand, they walked together to the crew cabin on the upper level.

Three weeks, she thought. It suddenly didn't seem like much time at all.


	3. Of Wookies and Wardrobes

_Author's Note:_

_Thanks all for your kind reviews so far. _

_I am indebted to John D McDonald for the seed of the idea that led to the solution to Leia's wardrobe problems and to Robert Earl, who put the words in Han's mouth. _

_This chapter's been revised, 4/26/11, to include a stray conversation that simply refused to fit in anywhere else but here. _

**Chapter 3 - Of Wardrobes and Wookies **

Leia was very quiet as they walked along the corridor toward the crew cabin and Han couldn't help but wonder what was going through her mind.

His own mind was a tangled mess at the moment. What the hell had just happened?

The fact that she was attracted to him wasn't exactly big news - he'd suspected as much for quite a while. But it was sort of gratifying to hear her say that she'd liked it, when he'd kissed her.

Disconcertingly, though, he wasn't nearly as pleased by recent developments as he ought to have been. He found himself regretting that he hadn't said something sooner, wondering if it was too little, too late. It hurt, more than he liked to admit, even to himself. Knowing he might have had a shot, if he hadn't screwed things up so badly... knowing there wasn't a thing he could do about it, now. Because unless he thought up a new plan for dealing with the price on his head, any progress in their relationship could only be for the short term. And the Princess didn't seem interested in that sort of progress.

He just hoped... hell, he didn't know what he hoped. Maybe someone would set off a thermal detonator in Jabba's palace. Maybe Jabba would choke to death on his own drool.

Maybe she'd miss him.

The hatch slid open on the Falcon's crew bunk room and they stepped inside. The Princess looked from left to right and stopped dead in the doorway. "Um... which bunk were you planning to offer me?" she asked, in a worried tone.

He turned and realized what she was thinking. The largest bunk, a wide one that lined the lower bulkhead to her left, was tidily made up. That was the one he used as his sleeping space. The smaller bunk above it had no mattress and was piled high with an assortment of gear. The bunks on the opposite bulkhead had been removed and replaced with a heavy-duty, oversized hammock for Chewie. Alongside the hatch, behind her, were two tall storage towers. And directly ahead, a flat wall of nothing but oddly shaped doors, concealing to a variety of lockers, hatches, and storage compartments.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he laughed. "You'll see." Kneeling, he released a lock and flipped open a long, narrow compartment. The lower bunk slid out from the bulkhead, where it was stored when it wasn't in use. Her eyes widened with relief. Surely she hadn't thought he expected her to share his bunk, after what had just happened in the hold?

He wasn't that much of a nerf-herder, was he?

Solo opened another cabinet high on the wall, pulling out a an assortment of bedding and tossing the items down onto the bunk below him. She came and sat on the edge of the bunk and began sorting through the pile. She looked rather impressed as she unrolled a thin but serviceable mattress, and pulled the release valves on two inflatable pillows.

"So, will these accomodations suit your Highness-ness?" He couldn't help himself. He loved to tease her.

"Not bad, Captain. Not bad." She stood. "And clothes?"

"I don't know, one of these." He began opening lockers at random.

She crossed the cabin to investigate the towers on the wall by the hatch. The first two doors revealed nothing remarkable; the third door was locked. "Would it be in here?"

"Nah," he said, not turning around. "That tower's all Chewie's stuff. He keeps some of it locked and I don't pry."

She raised an eyebrow but let it pass. On tiptoe, she flipped open a narrow panel on the other side of the hatch, revealing a huge duffel that took up nearly all of the storage compartment. "Well, this looks promising. Maybe in here?"

He spun around in surprise and his heart sank as he saw her tugging at the heavy duffel, which was stuck tight.

Oh, damn. He knew what was in that duffel. Hadn't he thrown that stuff away?

Chewie had probably gone back and gotten it out of the trash. He made a move to intercept her but he was too late. She gave one hard tug and the bag toppled out, catching her on the shoulder. Princess and duffel hit the deck at the same moment, and the contents spilled everywhere. She sat back on her heels, staring.

There were two sets of dress uniforms, one grey and the other blue. Combat fatigues in khaki and camouflage. Workout clothing - shorts, tanks, shirts, and drawstring knit pants, all bearing the emblem of the Imperial Academy at Carida. More than a dozen carefully folded dress socks. A heavy blanket, and a rather grubby looking kit that had once held toiletry items.

And somewhere on every shirt, was the surname of the young man who had once worn it. Printed on a cloth tab and stitched to the pockets, embroidered onto the material, stenciled in faded lettering across the chest or the shoulders: Solo.

"You kept it all?" she asked, quietly, fingering the stiff material of the dress greys.

Gruffly he replied, "Nah, I pitched it all in a dumpster when I lifted off Carida for the last time. Only thing I kept were the boots."

"Then how?..."

"I guess Chewie went back for it. Been hauling it around all this time and never mentioned it." He crossed the cabin and crouched in front of her, picking up one of the dress uniforms she was fingering. "I remember the first time I wore it, how proud I was." She cocked her head, curiously. He flashed a rueful smile. "Full of myself, of course."

"I can't imgaine," she laughed. "You?"

"Yeah, me," he grinned back. "Even back then." He sat back on his heels, sighed and without thinking, added, "I just wished she could have been there, to see it."

"Who?" Leia's curiosity was piqued now.

He frowned. He'd been thinking of Bria, who'd left him before he'd gone to the Academy. Bria, whose memory usually brought him nothing but pain. It had been a long time since he'd remembered the Bria who'd left him to his destiny, and not the Bria who'd come back and destroyed him.

He hadn't meant to tell Leia about Bria. He settled for a different truth. "Delwanna, the Wookie cook who raised me. When I was small, my dream was to be an officer, to be... respected. And to fly starships. She gave her life so I could follow that dream."

"A Wookie?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "A Wookie. I suppose in a way, what I did was for her. All those years ago, she died so I could have a chance at a better life."

"She was killed?"

"She took the blaster bolt meant for me."

"And then?"

He lifted his head, shaking off the memories. "Then I went off and learned to fly, of course. Got accepted at Carida and had a promising career ahead of me. Which I proceeded to throw away to save another Wookie. As if that would bring her back."

"The record's a bit sketchy on details," she began, hesitantly. "but..."

"The details don't matter," he sighed, knowing what she was about to ask. "Records are boring anyway. They say things like... oh... dishonorable discharge..."

"Insubordination," she picked up the litany without looking at him. "Striking a superior officer. Dereliction of duty. Theft of Imperial property. Destruction of Imperial property. Ignoring a lawful order, and..."

"Conduct unbecoming an officer," he finished, sourly. He could still hear the voice of the court recorder at his trial, as if it had been just yesterday.  
"That's what it says," she confirmed, in a neutral tone. "You want to tell me about it?"

Oddly enough, he found that he did, in fact, want to tell her. "How long have you known?" She'd recited the list of charges from memory, just as well as he could have.

"About the court martial?" She shrugged. "Since Yavin. I'd guess half of the Alliance's record techs used to work for the Empire at one point or another. For all I know, a couple of them still do. At any rate, High Command had your official file pulled ten minutes after we landed. The unofficial stuff took a bit longer to research, of course. "

"Of course." He'd always suspected they had a file on him.

"Han..." She took a deep breath. "I'd really like to hear what happened.""

And so he told her about Chewie and the other Wookies and about his commanding officer's orders that he'd refused to follow. How Delwanna's memory had held him back.

The theft of Imperial property, of course, was the Wookies he'd let free. And destruction of property was the two dead Wookies and the remains of their construction equipment.

Striking a superior was when he'd nailed his CO with the butt end of his rifle to stop the man from shooting Chewbacca.

"And the conduct unbecoming an officer?"

"Oh, that had nothing to do with the Wookies or anything. They just tacked that on for the trial. I think it's a rule, you can't have a court-martial and not use "conduct unbecoming". They hauled in some drunks who were happy to testify that I'd been in some off-limits dive, in uniform, drinking and fraternizing."

"And were you?"

"'course I was," he agreed, blithely. "We all were. Knew the girls at every dance hall, had a tab at every bar. Nobody else got cited for conduct unbecoming. Just yours truly." With a wicked grin, he added, "You think I was misbehaving down in the maintenance bay, sweetheart? That was nothing. Just wait till you've seen me conducting myself in a manner unbecoming an officer."

Unexpectedly, she threw her head back and laughed. "I don't think I've ever seen you act any other way, Captain."

"That's why you like me, remember?"

"As if I could forget."

"I'm impossible to forget, darlin'."

"I'll concede that you're impossible, Captain." A wry smile turned up the corners of her mouth for a moment. Then she sobered, and in a more thoughtful voice, added, "You could be an officer again, if you wanted, you know."

His joking mood fled in an instant. Dammit, how did she do that? He pushed himself up, abruptly, from the floor and strode back to the wall of cabinets, turning away to hide his scowl. He wasn't quite certain if was angry at her, for poking at his vulnerable spots, or at himself for showing them to her. All he knew was that her question stung and he lashed out at her, automatically. "Who said I wanted to?"

Sensing immediately that she'd touched a sore point, she tried explain. "All I meant was..."

"I know what you meant." He whirled to glare at her. "You're right, if that's what I wanted, I could be an officer in your precious Rebellion. But maybe I like being a low-life smuggler, you ever think of that, Princess?" He practically spat the title at her, and there wasn't a hint of teasing in his tone this time.

"We could use you," she began, carefully controlling her voice and refusing to respond in kind to his outburst. "Why can't you see that?"

He wasn't having any of her speeches. Not now. "You mean, the Alliance could use me. Thanks, Princess, but no thanks. I don't need a uniform to hide behind."

"How can you think that? We're not hiding behind anything. We believe in what we're doing. Don't you believe in anything, Han?"

"I believe in me, Princess. I do things because I want to."

She shook her head. "You do things because there's something in it for you."

"No," he replied, without thinking, "Sometimes I do things because they're the right thing to do."

She looked up, sharply, and he knew he'd said too much.

Before he had a chance to amend his statement, she pounced. "You don't think what we're doing is right?" There was challenge in her tone, now, and he straightened his back.

"I didn't say that. But I'm not interested in lost causes, sweetheart. I threw away my career, my commission, everything you think is important, because of what the Empire is. That's not enough for you? I have to die to prove I mean it?"

She heard the accusation in his voice and indignation rose to the surface. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you staying there, in that command center till the kriffing roof fell in on you. That's your idea of duty? That's what you think loyalty is about? You're rather be a dead heroine than live to fight another day?"

"I didn't want to _die_, Han!"

"You could have fooled me, sweetheart!"

"I stayed because they _needed _me!"

"You stayed because you were too damn stubborn to let anyone _help_ you." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at this comment, but he missed the warning signs. "You didn't want to die, then why did I have to drag you out of there? Was it my imagination or were you furious at me for making you leave when no one else could talk you into it?"

She went very white and her mouth was a thin, angry line. "No one _else_ could talk me into it..." she repeated his words, incredulous. "I don't believe this. _Carlist_ called you?"

Han put on his best sabaac face and answered without blinking, "No one called me."

"That stupid fool... oh, damn him!" she sputtered, indignant beyond words. "I _told_ him I would take my scheduled transport, and I would not claim priveleges and jump ahead of the line. And he had the _nerve_ to call you and get you to do his dirty work for him?"

A muscle clenched in Han's jaw. "I called _him_," he said, coldly. "Chewie heard on the PA that the command center was hit and you weren't answering your damned comm calls. I wanted to know if he'd heard from you."

All of her fury at Rieeken faded and she stared, dumbfounded, at Solo. He didn't notice her expresion, though, because he'd turned away again, deeply embarrassed. "I was worried about you. I told you. I couldn't leave, not knowing."

"_You_ really called Carlist?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," He still wouldn't look at her. "I did. He said he'd talked to you, and you were being stubborn and insisting on staying. Said you were on the list for transport twenty six and you weren't going anywhere till every last ship was safely off the planet. Including the _Falcon_. " That was the knife that had twisted in his heart, of course. No way was Han going to let Leia stay behind so the _Falcon _could take off. And it really, really, pissed him off that the General knew it.

"And?"

"And," came his reluctant answer, "I told him I'd go get you." He turned to face her at last and she met his eyes.

"I wouldn't let Carlist come after me, Han. I didn't mean for him to send someone else."

"I know, I know." He was quite sure that his coming after her hadn't been in her plans at all. "But why the hell wouldn't you let him take you with him in the first place?"

"I just couldn't leave the rest of them and save myself. It didn't seem... right." She twisted her hands in her lap and added, very quietly, "You know what's the worst part?" He raised an eyebrow. "All my brave talk about duty and loyalty and the minute they said troops were in the base, I just thought... I couldn't let them capture me. I couldn't face Vader again." Her voice trembled. "In the end I let them down, because I was scared. I ran off with you and saved myself and just.. _left_ them."

He dropped onto the deck beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. "Hey. Don't talk like that."

"It was so WEAK of me."

"You're not weak." He lifted her chin and brought her eyes back to his. "You're the strongest person I know." She shook her head, denying it, and he put his finger to her lips. "Shhh. I'm sorry, I was outta line, yelling at you about it."

She gave a weak laugh. "You?"

"Yeah, me. Imagine that." He hugged her swiftly and pretended not to notice that while her face was hidden in his chest, she surreptitiously rubbed her cheek against his shirt to dry the tears she was doing her best to ignore.

At that moment, the hatch slid open and Chewie stuck his head in. ["What are you two doing in here? I heard something fall."] His eyes went from one to the other suspiciously. Deciding, apparently, that Solo had done something to make her cry, he growled at his partner, ["Can't I leave you alone for a minute?"]

"It's nothing, Chewie, really," she assured him, hastily, as Han released her and moved away. The big Wookie suddenly noticed the duffel on the floor and the scattered uniforms.

["Oh."] A guilty look crossed the furry countenance as he met his friend's glare.

"Oh? That's all you have to say? Oh?"

["Oh. Look. Your old uniforms. Where ever did you find them?]

"Can it. You know where they were."

The Wookie gave a rueful chuckle. ["Yes, I do. But I never thought you'd actually look in that locker."]

"I didn't, she did." Han said, sourly, making an attempt to change the subject. "Since you seem to know where everything is in here, maybe you should be the one over here looking. We're trying to find her something else to wear besides her snow suit. Any ideas?"

["Did you try the booty bin?"]

Hell of a time for you to get mouthy, old buddy. We're gonna have to have a chat later about that attitude of yours. "It is NOT a booty bin. You know I hate it when you call it that."

"The booty bin?" Leia looked from Solo to the Wookie and back, confused and Han cursed silently. He knew her skills with Chewie's language were limited - general conversation and a few diplomatic phrases. Just his luck she managed to translate this one.

"Just ignore him," Han snapped hastily. "He thinks he's being cute. It's just a pile of clothes."

["Hmmph. So why do you keep it?"]

"I keep it around for times like this, you big hairy lug."

Leia spoke loudly, over the rising voices of the Captain and the Wookie. "Will one of you two tell me what the hell is a booty bin, please?"

Chewbacca took pity on her. ["It's a bin full of female clothing."]

Frowning, she cocked her head. "But why..."

Han cut in, trying to head off the Wookie's explanation, which was sure to be less than flattering. "Because, the hair ball here thinks he's being funny. It's just a bunch of stuff that ladies have left here."

"Don't tell me you keep trophies, Captain?" Her tone was mild and he couldn't tell if she was teasing him or getting mad at him.

"They LEAVE them, I don't STEAL them." Glaring at his copilot, he added, "You see what you started?"

Undaunted, Chewie spoke to the Princess, matter-of-factly. ["I don't exactly understand it, but women are not always anxious to have it be known that they spent the night on board this ship."]

Her eyes widened with amusement and her voice dripped sarcasm. "Really? I can't imagine why that would be."

Han felt his neck grow hot. "Chewie," he said, in a warning tone. His copilot ignored him and opened a storage locker on the far wall.

["At any rate, women are occasionally rather... rushed, when they depart the ship."]

"And they sometimes leave things behind, eh?"

["They do. And Captain Solo is reluctant to seek them out later to return their belongings. So they sort of... collect."]

"I begin to understand," she grinned at Chewie, who dropped a large square bin onto the deck.

["Anyway, a friend of ours named it the booty bin. Because, a smuggler is something like a pirate, you see?"]

"And the clothes are the sort of booty he hoards," Leia finished, laughing.

"I don't collect clothes," Solo insisted. "And he's the only one who calls it that."

"So what do you call it, Captain?"

"I dunno, I just call it 'the box'."

["We could call it the pantie pile?"] Chewie suggested innocently.

"NO, we could not." The Wookie was having way too much fun with this for Han's taste.

And then the Princess opened the smaller bin that had been on the top of the pile. Han covered his face with his hand. He knew what was in THAT box, too. He was going to murder Chewie.

"Good skies, Captain!" she exclaimed, clearly taken aback. "And here I was worried about being a notch on the bedpost. Perhaps I should keep close watch on my underwear instead?"

Chewie wuffed with laughter. ["Tell her, Solo."]

"Tell me, what?"

["There's a reason for all the panties, Princess. And it's not what you think. Come on, Solo. Tell her, or I will."]

Han looked at the ceiling. "It's Wedge's fault."

"Let me get this straight. It's WEDGE'S fault," she repeated, "that you have a box in your cabin with one, two, three..." she sifted through the bin and made a pile, counting silently and then burst out laughing at the total she reached. "Thirteen pairs of ladies' underwear?"

"It was a bet."

Her lips twitched. "I bet it was."

"We were playing cards..." he began, reluctantly parting with the story.

"And?" she prompted.

"And, Wes Janson made a comment about how I seemed to have a different woman over here on the Falcon every night. And you know, we're drinking a little,"

"A little?"

"Who's telling this story, huh?" Scowling, he went on, "So anyway, we're drinkin' a little, and I'm maybe encouraging them a bit, not namin' names or anything, but agreein', yeah, I get my share..." He broke off, embarrassed to be discussing this topic with Leia. "You sure you want to hear this?"

"Oh, indeed," she said, straight-faced. "I am simply dying to know."

He sighed heavily. "So somehow, and I ain't quite sure how, but somehow, we're talking about how, like Chewie said, women are not always wantin' it known where they spent the night, and how they sometimes forget their stuff in their haste to depart the premises in the morning."

Her voice was thick with supressed laughter. "Oddly enough, I've never had that problem."

"Yeah, well, we've established that you haven't been getting any, sweetheart." She went very red at this and her eyes narrowed as if she might be about to take offense. "of course, you wouldn't know anything about sneaking out of ships in the middle of the night. A girl like you'd never stoop so low as to be kissing scoundrels in the cargo hold of some nasty old freighter."

Not sure if he'd repaired the damage or not, he went on, hastily, trying to wind up the story before things got any worse. "So, anyway, the hair ball here tells the boys about the bin, and somehow, it gets to be a bet between Wes and Wedge, how many pairs of panties I can collect in one weekend."

"One weekend! Thirteen pairs, in two days?" Her voice went up a notch as she looked down into the pile in surprise. "Captain, really!"

"It wasn't MY idea," he said, sulkily. "They made this bet after I left. So they're layin' odds on how many girls leave their undies in the Falcon, you see, and Lara and Eva wandered by, and wanted in on the bet."

"The ladies," she repeated, incredulously, "wanted in on the bet?"

["I think,"] Chewie offered, ["that they hoped to teach the men a lesson."]

Dark eyes sparkled with amusement. "Continue."

"Next thing you know, the whole X Wing unit is in on it." Leia covered her mouth with her hand. "Now me, I know none of this. All I know is the next day at breakfast, in the mess hall, three ladies I've never seen before want to invite themselves over to the Falcon for drinks that night. And four more corner me at lunch. Now, I am a popular fellow," he paused to give Leia a suggestive wink, which sent her into a fit of giggles. "But by dinner even I'm getting a little suspicious of all this attention, and one of the girls finally tells me what's goin' on. So I threw what you might call a hell of a party." Another pause, another wink. "You shoulda been there."

"In your dreams, Captain."

"Always, Princess." He wagged his eyebrows at her. "Anyway... a lot of the ladies seemed to need to use the facilities on the Falcon at some point. And there was this box, in the 'fresher..."

"So when Wes and Wedge and Hobbie finally show up here and start digging around, they find..." He shrugged. "Let's just say it was a lot of panties."

"A lot?"

"A lot."

"So, more than thirteen?"

"Oh yeah, WAY more."

"So, why are there thirteen pairs in the box now?"

He smirked. "Well, it was, as I said, a hell of a party. Cleaned me out, in fact. So after the girls got their money, they came back here and spent a little of their winnings restocking the Falcon's bar to express their gratitude. And I left the box on the table in the lounge and as the night wore on, the panties started disappearing. "

"And at the end of the night..." she prompted, seeing where this was going.

"These are the ones no one claimed. I assume they're waitin' for me to go walkin' around base looking for the owners, but that ain't likely." He pushed the box toward her. "Look at it this way - at least you won't have to worry about clean undies."

She pushed the box right back at him. "If you think I'm using these, Solo, you're delusional."

"Beggars can't be choosers, your Worship."

"Ugh, I don't think so," she said primly. "Who knows where they've been? Besides," she held up one particularly large and colorful pair, "I think these might fit YOU, but they're a little large for me."

"Hmph. Well, then, how about this one?" He displayed a scrap of red lace. "Might fit," he leered as he held them up against her waistline, turning them this way and that.

"Not on a bet, Solo," she swatted at his hand.

"I'd pay to see that," he teased. "Come on, what do you say, Princess?"

"No," she snapped, and he realized abruptly that her amusement had fled.

"Fine, put 'em back in the box, and don't complain if you have to do the laundry once a day to keep up." he grunted.

As they'd been talking, she'd been setting aside other assorted items she found in the bin, and now she gathered the pile up along with some of the workout gear from the duffel bag. "I think I should be fine with this."

"Your loss."

She sniffed and headed for the hatch.

"Hey, if you're doin' laundry, hold up," he said, peeling off his flight jacket and tossing it at her. "Here, I'm sick of smelling like tauntauns."

She accepted the jacket but flushed with embarrassment as he proceeded to shed his shirt and holster as well. Oblivious to the reaction he was provoking, he strode across the cabin to dig in his own locker.

"Chewie," his voice came from inside the cabinet, " Listen, we're wasted enough time already. We've got work to do. I want you to do a full walk-through of the ship, take Threepio with you and have him take dictation." Solo emerged from the cabinet with a stained coverall and stepped into it. "We need a complete list of everything that needs repair, so we can prioritize. Make a note of what parts we'll need and whether we can address it now or not. We get to Bespin, I want to be able to hand over a list and get them working on it straight off." The Wookie looked at the floor. "What?"

["Well, I actually came back here hoping to catch a nap."]

To Han's surprise, the Princess spoke up before he could respond. "He brings up a good point. How do you plan on splitting this up, Captain? I know it's not practical for us all to sleep at the same time - at sublight, there's too many things that could go wrong on the way. Someone needs to be on duty all the time."

"I was gonna say, we take turns." Duh.

["So which of you will be sleeping while I'm stuck with the tin can?"]

Han frowned. He hadn't been planning on anyone getting a sleep break just yet. "Neither of us."

["So, you two will be doing, what?"] Chewie's tone was suspicious and it annoyed Han deeply. Mostly because he'd have liked to be doing exactly the sort of thing he knew the Wookie was thinking.

"Get your mind out of the gutter." Solo waved a hand, indicating the dirty coverall he was still buttoning. "I'll be down in the maintenance bay diggin' all the tools out of the pit and where ever else they've gotten to. I couldn't find a thing down there earlier, and I need to know what's missing before we start in on the repairs. "

["Anything's missing, it might still be on the hangar floor. You didn't exactly give me much time for take-off."]

"I'm not blaming you, I'm just sayin'. It's a disaster down there and I'm not gonna start pulling parts without knowing I got the tools to put 'em back when I'm done." Chewie muttered something under his breath and Solo added, coaxingly, "Come on, you know I hate digging around in that pit. If I thought it was your fault, wouldn't I make you do it?"

["You might ask,"] chewie allowed, ["but you can't make me do anything, and you know it."]

The captain scowled and threw up his hands, appealing to his passenger. "You see what I have to put up with? Insubordination."

"And what are you planning to _ask_ of me, Captain?" Leia purred. Chewie hooted with laughter and Solo gave him a dirty look.

He strode across the cabin and wrapped an arm around her shoulder which she tried, unsuccessfully, to shrug off. "Well, darlin', " he drawled, "it looks like you're in charge of laundry." He added his socks to her pile. "And then you're gonna get the galley back up and running."

She ducked out from under his arm. "That's rather sexist. I warned you, Captain, you do not want me in charge of the galley. Not if you expect the food to be edible."

"Don't worry, I heard you - royalty doesn't cook. I just need you to go down to the hold with a datapad and do a complete inventory of the consumables. There wasn't time before we left and the galley programs won't do us any good till the inventory's up to date. Think you can handle that much?"

"How quaint, counting by hand."

"Watch your mouth, sweetheart. Or I'll charge you with mutiny. Now move it."

"I'm moving it," she muttered. "Shall we all meet back in the lounge at say, 1700 hours, and see where we stand?"

Glaring at her, he snapped,. "_I_ was about to say _1800_. In the cockpit."

["Let's make it 1730, right here,] Chewie offered and Leia, who'd been halfway out the door, turned and grinned at Chewie.

"What an excellent suggestion, Chewie. I'll see you both back here at 1730."

She disappeared into the corridor and Han took the opportunity to offer a suggestion, under his breath, to the Wookie, about what he could do with his opinions. Then, he headed after her, hoping to catch her reaction when she got a look at the Falcon's laundry facilities.

In the lower hold, the Princess drew open a pair of sliding panels, and then stared in surprise at the late-model auto valet system, including a steam unit and a full length dryer and presser cupboard. "Wow."

Han came up behind her, a lopsided grin creasing his face. "Not what you were expecting, eh, Your Worship?"

"Not quite, no," she admitted.

"Think you know what to do with it? Or doesn't royalty do laundry, either?"

"Yes, I know how to run it," she glared. "Weren't you going down to the maintenance bay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm on my way." Unable to resist the opportunity to tease her, he added, "Will you miss me?" She blushed and turned away to hide her smile.

He leaned around her and landed a quick kiss on her cheek before she swatted him away. "Conduct unbecoming, Captain. Behave yourself."

"Not a chance, sweetheart. Not a chance."


	4. Round and Round

_A/N Please note that this chapter replaces the previous chapter 4, which was never really part of this story in the first place. I shoehorned it in here where it didn't belong and I decided it worked much better as I'd originally written it - and that it was actually an alternative to this story, not an addition to it. So here's what should have come next all along. _

**Chapter 4 - Round and Round**

_Just to refresh everyone's memory... The Falcon's occupants have departed the crew cabin, dispatched by the Captain on separate assignments. As they carry out their tasks, they keep circling the ship, and each other... _

With one last glance at the panel on the autovalet to confirm how long the laundry cycle would take, the princess headed back to the crew cabin, planning to examine the contents of the "panty pile" a bit more closely now that the males were gone.

She chuckled to herself as she sat down on the deck and began sorting the garments into two piles. If Bail Organa could see her now. His daughter, picking through other women's cast-off underwear and cleaning house for a pair of smugglers. Her good humor faded, however, as she considered exactly what Bail would think if he could, in fact, see what she'd been doing with one of those smugglers.

Despite his firm belief that a man's character was more important than his social class, her father had been very traditional about certain things. Leia suspected that although the Viceroy might have liked Solo if they'd ever met, he probably wouldn't have approved of the man as a possible suitor for his only daughter.

Did that make a difference? Was that why she was reluctant to let this go very far?

Gods, she'd hate to think so.

No. It wasn't that at all. It was just... self-preservation. It would be foolish for her to let herself get involved with a man who wasn't going to be around.

Never mind that tiny little voice in the back of her head. The one that thought he might have a point, about that whole "hell of a ride while it lasted" thing. The trip through the asteroid field had been a hell of a ride, she told herself, but that didn't mean she had any desire to repeat it.

If she'd needed a reminder of Solo's unsuitibility, the "booty bin" that sat beside her on the deck served as an excellent exhibit. Just how many women, she wondered, had flitted in and out of his life - and his bunk - over the years? Did she really want to join that dubious sorority?

Sighing, she gathered up the handful of items she'd chosen that would function reasonably well and allow her to retain some semblence of modesty.

There really wasn't much. Most of the clothing in the bin could best be described as "scanty". And Leia had no intention whatsoever of wearing anything that might give the Captain any new ideas.

He had plenty of ideas already.

Dropping the final load of clothing in the feeder bin for the autovalet, she headed upstairs to the galley to investigate the culinary programs.

It was a sexist assumption, of course, that she should be the one assigned to the cooking and cleaning by virtue of her gender.

More galling was the truth - that she was probably the worst choice for this job. Leia Organa did not tolerate incompetence in her staff, and it was deeply embarrassing to have to face it in herself.

The unfortunate fact was that her upbringing had not exposed her to the more mundane activities involved in maintaining a household. At the Palace of the Viceroy, beginning at a young age, she'd learned to view mealtime as a social experience, not a culinary one. A formal dinner party was a necessary ordeal, to be endured only until she could escape and be free to roam the Palace gardens.

It hadn't occurred to her that domestic skills could come in handy. In later years, when she began to take a more active role in Alliance business, her father had insisted that she be trained appropriately. By the time her father appointed her to the Senate, she'd been as comfortable on the firing range as on the dance floor. She had hardly been the pampered princess.

But food had never been one of her priorities. She could choose the perfect wine to complement any meal, or select the proper utensil for serving or consuming any food you cared to name. But producing dinner from a random assortment of supplies was going to be quite a trick.

She hoped the Falcon's galley was more reliable than than her hyperdrive system was.

To her relief, the equipment in the small galley was outdated ("_There's_ a surprise," she thought, wryly) but quite servicable and included a master database of ingredients and recipe options. Once she had the inventory updated, the computer could suggest several options to prepare, given what was available.

Which meant, of course, that there was no reason for anyone to be in charge of cooking. They could take turns choosing the meals. She'd be sure to draw up a schedule, so she didn't get stuck with the job permenantly.

She snagged a datapad from the lounge and made quick work of synchronizing it with the culinary database already in the Falcon's memory. Activating the scanner attachment, she headed for the cargo bay with a plan of attack. All she had to do was scan the labels on the food crates, and the galley inventory would update if it found a match. And if what was down there didn't turn up on the list, she could locate the closest match on the database from her pad, without having to trek back upstairs.

A little more than an hour later, she was back in the lounge, searching, annoyed, for another datapad. The one she'd been using had just lost its charge.

She found Solo there already, wrestling with one of the floor panels that hid the smuggling compartements beneath. "Hey, you're just in time, Princess. Come give me a hand with this panel."

She crossed the lounge and bent to grap the panel opposite him. "On or off?"

"Off." He gestured with his head and she nodded, understanding. The panel wasn't heavy at all, just awkwardly shaped, and together they had no trouble of removing it and setting it aside.

Hands on hips, she gazed down into the clutter-filled space beneath the deck. "It looks like an astromech exploded down there." He ignored her comment and dropped down to sit on the edge of the compartment as he sifted through the disarray. She crouched down to his level. "And what are we looking for?"

"We?" he quirked an eyebrow. "I'm looking for the micro tool kit. What are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for a new datapad. " She gestrued at the one that lay on the floor. "The one I had just died."

He pointed, without looking up. "Engineering station. Lower left drawer."

Arching her back to get the kinks out, she crossed the lounge and then sank into the chair at the engineering station and began picking through the drawer, searching for a working datapad.

"You look tired," he peered curiously at her, as he stacked a pile of small tools on his lap. "You doin' all right alone down there in the cargo bay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, absently. Then, reconsidering, she heaved a large sigh. "I guess I **am** tired," she admitted, reluctantly. "Long day."

"You can say that again, sweetheart."

She rose, datapad in hand, and turned back toward the doorway. "I'm gonna go... finish up... downstairs, I mean..." _Good skies, could she be any more uncomfortable with him? Surely she coudl have a conversation with the man wthout getting flustered? _

"Hey," he said, lightly, attributing her behavior to fatigue. "I'm beat, too, if you want to know the truth. What time is it, anyway?"

"Not quite 1600, when I came upstairs."

"I vote we knock off and eat before we're all asleep on our feet."

"No, I should finish downstairs, really."

"Maybe another hour or so, then we break for some grub?" Chewie, passing through the ring corridor with Threepio in tow, gave him a thumbs-up and a happy grunt. Han translated, helpfully. "Give him a list of what's downstairs and Chewie says he'll cook."

She smiled, briefly, suddenly pleased to know that the first meal wouldn't fall to her to prepare. "That sounds good, Captain. I'll see you back here in an hour, then." Heading back down to the cargo hold, she thought to herself that she was probably the lucky one, alone in the hold. Poor Chewie! Was it awful to be so glad that she wasn't the one who'd gotten stuck with Threepio?

An hour ago, Chewbacca would have agreed with her assessment of the situation, but circling the ship with the droid in tow turned out to be far less painful than he'd had anticipated.

Things had improved dramatically once he'd discovered Threepio was quite literal when it came to following orders.

They hadn't gotten very far before the droid was inquiring why, if they were supposed to be doing a full ship survey, Chewie was asking the Falcon's computer run a full and complete diagnostic report. What would be the point in that?

Not interested in arguing with Threepio, Chewie's response had been short and to the point: ["Plug in, download the report, and don't ask questions."] he growled. It was several minutes before it became obvious that Threepio was, in fact, not asking questions.

Basking in the silence, the Wookie made a full circuit of each level of the ship, pointing out everything he saw that was not in perfect condition, and speaking aloud his thoughts on what might be required to achieve such condition.

He knew there was little chance that most of the needed parts were on board, or that Solo would agree to their purchase once they arrived at Bespin. But it was rather fun making a list. It was particularly fun having Threepio do it for him.

The Falcon's list had been an excellent starting point. Only the ship herself knew her specs better than Chewie did. And she had eyes and ears in places he couldn't reach. They'd need to do a full walk through to examine everything in person, though, to evaluate what they could and couldn't do during the trip.

Her priorities would be strictly based on function, and the hyperdrive would be at the top of the list. If there was any hope of bringing the drive back up, Chewie would have made it his first priority as well. It pained him to hear the Falcon's engines struggling to keep up this sub-light pace. It was as if the ship was missing her heart. But the big Wookie had already seen the diagnostics, and he knew that any further progress on the hyperdrive would have to wait until they got to Bespin.

That was why the walk-through was so critical. The Falcon could tell them what was wrong, but she couldn't tell them what they could fix **_now_**.

She'd know every nut, bolt, wire, and sensor in need of replacement or repair, but she wouldn't know how many spools of wire were in the cargo bay until Leia counted them.

She could report how recently the water tanks had completed a full recycle, and how many hours till the next one would be completed. But there was no telling how much waste water would be produced in the refresher in the meantime, and how bad it would smell by the time the tanks were clear again.

And while she could easily recalculate the capacity of the ship's air and water tanks using a revised crew of two humans and a Wookie - and a very different itinery than they'd originally planned - not even Chewie could venture to guess how much of their precious air the Captain and the Princess would waste in the next three weeks, yelling at one another.

Circuit complete, Chewie had delayed only long enough to direct Threepio to enter their damage report into the Falcon's memory banks, and allow the ship to prioritize the repairs from a functional standpoint before making the executive decision that he'd earned a nap.

The droid expressed his doubt that the Falcon's computer was capable of handling this assignment, and his concern that the Captain had not ordered the crew to take naps yet.

The Wookie countered with his own opinion of the protocol droid's usefulness.

A compromise was reached as Threepio agreed to provide the Falcon's technical computer with the results of their visual survey and Chewie agreed not to suggest to the captain that removal of the droid's voice box would be a design improvement.

Passing the lounge en route to the crew cabin, Chewbacca overheard the conversation between the Princess and the Captain. Looking forward to a stolen nap, the Wookie was quick to second Han's proposal that they break early for food, and happy to volunteer to take the first shift in the galley. It had been far too long since he'd eaten a decent meal, and the only way to be sure he'd get one now was if he made it himself.

An hour later, refreshed by his nap and hungrier than ever, Chewie directed his human companions to prepare the lounge for dinner, and set to work in the galley.

Han and Leia spoke very little as they went through the motions of converting the semi-circular lounge area into a more meal-friendly configuration. The curved bench seat separated into two booth-like segments. Han touched a control on the bulkhead and the circular games table folded and disappeared into a compartment beneath the deck. A larger, rectangular table emerged and clicked into place between the two benches. Han disappeared into the galley and returned with a stack of dishes, utensils, and condiment containers balanced on his arm. In a few moments the casual disarray of the lounge became a comfortable eating space.

Leia had eaten on the Falcon before. But she'd never actually witnessed this transformation, and she found herself unexpectedly amused at how domesticated the scene appeared. Han caught her smile and raised an eyebrow enquiringly. "What? You weren't expecting utensils?"

She laughed aloud. "I never know what to expect from you, Captain. I certainly hope you aren't making an extra effort on my behalf."

He didn't respond, but made a show of offering her a seat and spreading her napkin on her lap. And then, to her dismay, he settled himself beside her, shaking out his own napkin, as if this were a perfectly normal occurance.

There was an awkward moment of silence before the Wookie appeared, bearing a platter of food, and then Leia had something entirely different to worry about.

Having eaten Chewie's cooking for years, Han wasn't surprised to find that the Wookie had opted for quantity rather than variety. Han simply shrugged and dug in to what was placed in front of him.

Leia was a bit more skeptical. She had done the inventory of the food supply, but she still wasn't entirely certain she recognized everything that was on her plate. The largest chunk of it seemed to be meat, heavily drenched in a pungent sauce, and she tried to scrape some of the sauce off to get a better look. She'd heard that Wookies considered their meat "done" as long as it wasn't still moving, but she preferred her food to be warm all the way through.

Han watched her probing her food cautiously and grinned at Chewie. The Wookie shook his head once, and then, to Solo's surprise, spoke to the Princess apologetically. ["I didn't think to ask if you've eaten rhyssk before, Princess. It might be a bit spicy for your taste."] She speared a hunk of it and brought it to her nose, sniffing dubiously. ["I could make you something a bit milder if you'd like?"]

"No, no," she assured him hastily, "You don't need to go to any trouble for me, Chewie. I'm fine... I, um... I really like these bread... things," she offered, slicing off a bit and chewing it thoroughly. "Are there more?"

["Bread things?"] Chewie repeated, puzzled by this description.

"They're dumplings," Han supplied, helpfully. "She likes the dumplings, Chewie."

["Ah. I prefer the filling, myself, so I made more of that. Next time I will be sure to make extra dumplings since you like them."] He rose and headed back to the galley. ["If everyone is ready, I will fetch dessert."]

"Dessert?" Leia's eyebrows shot up and she mouthed the word behind the Wookie's back.

He waited until Chewbacca was out of sight before leaning down to whisper, in a conspiratorial tone, "Don't worry, sweetheart. Wookies like their meat spicy and their desserts sweet."

The pale green custard that Chewie produced was, in fact, far too syrupy and sweet for Leia's refined palate, but she gamely ate two servings and washed it down with the thick beverage he'd poured into their glasses. Stars only knew what **that** concoction was - her head had begun to swim after just a few swallows and she pushed the glass discreetly aside as soon as Chewie wasn't looking.

When she reached for her water tumbler instead, she noticed the smaller glass had disappeared and glanced over to see that Solo had helped himself. He caught her watching him and winked down at her before turning to lift the glass appreciatively in the Wookie's direction. "Good stuff, Chewie." She was spared the need to respond in kind, as the two launched into an animated recollection of a former associate of theirs, who'd apparently had a very low tolerance for this particular beverage.

When the story of the unfortunate fellow's fate ended, Leia found herself asking questions about how they'd met the man and this led to additional tales of their smuggling days on Nar Shadda. It wasn't often that Solo spoke of his past, and she tried to keep the conversation going as long as possible. Only when the topic shifted to their days in the Corporate Sector did he grow reticent and at last the Wookie fell silent in response to a very significant look from the captain.

Clearly realizing he'd spoiled the companionable mood that had taken hold of them, Chewie rose and began clearing away the remains of dinner. Leia stood up to help him and by the time they returned from the galley, Solo had retracted the table into the deck and reached for the controls of the holo projector. He was slouched on the curved seat, watching a smashball game and determinedly ignoring both of them.

Across the room, Chewbacca settled in at a smaller table, fiddling with some part he'd brought up from the maintenance pit which was humming erratically. The Wookie growled, softly, at it, as if he were trying to coax it into compliance, and the large, hairy paws were surprisingly adept at the delicate work.

Leia had retired to the engineering station, rolling her shoulders surreptitiously as she shifted on the chair, trying to get comfortable. She had decided to consolidate the information from the two separate data pads into a single inventory, but it was slow going. She was unable to squelch her yawns and, glancing up from his seat on the bench, Solo's expression softened.

Smiling, he held out an arm, beckoning her over and indicating the spot beside him. "Hey," he said, lightly. "You look tired. C'mere and sit down for a while."

She looked as if she was considering it, and then shook her head, quickly. "No thanks, I'm fine here."

"C'mon. I happen to know that the Captain doesn't need that supply inventory tonight." This comment produced a weak smile and he plowed ahead. "I'll dazzle you with my extensive knowledge of smash ball trivia," he offered, grinning.

"Hmm," she sniffed, but there was laughter in her eyes as she took a moment to contemplate the game on the screen. "Maybe you could tell me more about that good looking fellow who just lost his shirt?"

Chewie guffawed loudly but Solo's grin didn't waver. "So long as you're dazzled, sweetheart," he drawled, "that's all that matters." He looked so hopeful that she had to laugh. "C'mon, Princess. You keep working when you're this tired, you'll just have to redo it all tomorrow anyway."

Suddenly glad of an excuse, she stood up, yawning again as she rolled her shoulders. "You know, you have a point. I'm beat." She stretched her arms over her head, then crossed the room, dropping lightly onto the couch in the spot he'd indicated and folding her feet beneath her.

He proceeded to fill her in on the background and current gossip about the handsome player she'd been watching, and she feigned deep dismay upon learning that the man's preferences reportedly didn't run toward human females.

"And what about you, Captain?" she teased, poking him in the ribs. "What direction do _your _preferences run?"

"I definitely prefer female," Solo quipped, giving her a significant nudge.

"I gathered that," she replied, straight-faced, "from the panty pile."

The Wookie burst into laughter again and Solo glared at him.

Leia decided to quit while she was ahead and settled back quietly for a bit, making at least a show of watching the game and listening indulgently to his helpful explanations of the strategies taking place on screen. It was a struggle not to yawn, though, and it wasn't long before she leaned against the arm he'd left outstreched, hopefully, across the back of the seat and surrendered to her drooping eyelids.

He took the opportunity to drop his hand onto shoulder, drawing her closer, although he half-expected her to protest this move. She was clearly exhausted though, because all she did was let out a long sigh and relax, shifting so her head fit more comfortably into the hollow of his arm.

Han glanced down a few minutes later to see her eyes were closed. Her arm sagged, dangling against his leg. Across the room, the Wookie gave an amused chuckle. Soon he heard a rather unladylike snore, muffled by his shirt and he grinned as he met Chewie's curious gaze over her head. ["She's asleep already?"]

"Think so. Can't say I blame her. Long day."

["Want me to carry her into the crew cabin? I saw you've pulled out an extra bunk."]

"Nah, she's fine. I'm pretty tired myself. I'm gonna crash soon."

Chewie's gaze was appraising. ["You'd rather carry her back there yourself?"]

"No," Han replied, haughtily. "I'll wake her up before I head back."

["Can I watch?'] Solo shot his copilot a dirty look and the Wookie fell silent again. He studied the sleeping princess, comfortably settled against Han's arm, and made note of the fond smile on Solo's face. He asked, carefully, ["It appears you two have worked out your differences?"]

"Ah... I wouldn't go quite that far. But, yeah, we talked."

["And?"]

"And, it's none of your goddamn business."

The Wookie cocked his head and indicated their positions on the couch. ["She seems less antagonistic toward you than she was earlier."]

"Yeah," Solo was amused at his partner's choice of words. "She is, at that."

["That's a good sign."]

"I guess so."

["But she'll be needing her own bunk?"]

"Yes," Han said, evenly, "she will. Wiseass." Chewie was enjoying this way too much. He seemed to think... well, who knew what the hairy fool thought? What ever it was, Han wished he'd stop thinking about it.

Leia gave an unintelligible murmur and shifted on the seat, resting her cheek against his chest. She looked like she might be planning to settle in for the night.

It occurred to Han that he wouldn't have minded falling asleep, right here, in this spot, himself, so long as he got to do it with the Princess tucked against his shoulder. This wasn't a particularly welcome thought, but there it was.

For the first time since they'd talked in the hold, all those hours ago, it seemed possible to him that they could, in fact, be friends. At least for now.

He hadn't been sure he could manage it, honestly. Han Solo didn't think he'd ever had a woman as a friend. He'd had plenty of girlfriends, a handful of long-term lovers, and more casual bunk-mates than he cared to count. But he'd never thought of a woman the way he found himself thinking of Leia Organa – as an equal. A companion. A friend who just happened to be a very attractive female.

He certainly wouldn't have objected to a different sort of relationship, especially since it looked like they were going to be spending a lot of time together. But it was pretty clear that _that _sort of relationship with _this _particular woman was going to require more in the way of commitment than he was willing to offer.

He wasn't in a position to offer anything permanent, anyway, even if he had been so inclined.

Which he wasn't.

He was just thinking that it mightn't be all that bad, having her around for three whole weeks. Even if she wasn't interested in spending those three weeks doing the usual thing that a woman did when she was on board. Han was finding that it was fun to talk to her, when she wasn't nagging him or making cracks about his ship. She'd seemed genuinely interested in their stories tonight, and she'd laughed in all the right places.

It was strangely comfortable, having her asleep on his shoulder just now, and not nearly as awkward as he'd have guessed it would be. Except for the part where every time he looked across the lounge, he heard the challenge in Chewie's words. _She'll be needing her own bunk, though?_

_Yeah, buddy. _Han told himself firmly. _She definitely needs her own bunk. _

Determined to head off any ideas anyone might have about sleeping right here, he rose from the couch, stretching his arms and giving a mighty yawn. Losing the support of his shoulder, the Princess sagged against the back of the bench, and he caught her arm to keep her upright. Her eyes came open slowly. "Hey, c'mon sweetheart, time for bed."

"'kay..." she mumbled, taking his words literally and turning on the spot, tucking her arm under her head and stretching her legs out on the bench. "I'm fine," she added, around a yawn. "G'head."

He stood still for a moment, about to protest, and insist she go back to the bunk he'd made up for her in the crew cabin, but then he shook himself. If she wanted to sleep on the bench, fine.

It would certainly head off any awkward moments in the bunk room involving them both getting ready for bed at the same time.

Han switched off the light over the table, aimed the remote at the holoscreen, shutting down the recorded smashball game, and then, after a moment's thought, dug in the overhead compartment and produced a blanket, which he spread, very carefully, over the Princess's lower half. She didn't stir.

He could hear his bunk calling to him, and he saw no reason not to answer.


	5. Alone in the Dark

_This chapter replaces the Author's Note that lived in the Chapter 5 slot for a while. _

_The snippet of dialogue that used to be in Chapter 5-ish ended up in Chapter 6. _

_Please note that Chapter 4 was also replaced with entirely different material since the original posting, so be sure you have read the current version of Chapter 4 before moving on._

_Sorry for any confusion. _

**Chapter 5 - Alone in the Dark**

Chewbacca continued his work at the table on the far side of the lounge after Solo had gone to bed. He wasn't tired yet - his nap earlier had refreshed him - and he was nagged by a inexplicable feeling that he shouldn't leave Leia to sleep alone on the couch while he and the Captain slept in relative comfort in the bunk room.

An hour later, he was grateful that he'd followed this vaguely chivalrous impulse, because otherwise, she'd have been alone when she woke from the nightmare.

He heard her increasingly distressed whimpers and had just risen to shake her when she sat up, quite suddenly. The lights were low on her side of the lounge, and when she came awake, it was quite clear she didn't know where she was. Her eyes were wide and she was breathing very hard. Chewie could smell her terror and without hesitating, he crossed the lounge to kneel beside the bench where she sat. His heavy paw rested on her shoulder and she looked around, wildly. When her eyes met the Wookie's blue ones, he saw the spark of recognition, and felt some of the tension go out of her body.

She took a long breath and steadied herself. "Chewie," she breathed.

["It's all right,"] his deep growl was unexpectedly soothing. ["Bad dream?"]

She nodded. "I'm sorry, I..."

["There is no need to apologize, little one. Surely you didn't dream it on purpose?"]

"No," she smiled, weakly. "Not that dream," she added, with a shiver. She hadn't had _that _dream in months.

["Is there something I can do?"] She shook her head. ["I could fetch the Captain?"]

For a half second, Leia was tempted. She had a fleeting fantasy of hurling herself, sobbing, into the Captain's arms for comfort. And then she straightened her back and banished the thought. "No," she assured him, a little too firmly. "No, that's not necessary. I'm fine."

Chewie saw immediately that he'd said the wrong thing. He wasn't quite sure why, but she was very obviously not interested in letting Solo see her like this. Guessing that she saw her nightmares, and her fear of them, as a weakness, he said, very carefully, ["I won't say anything to him, then?"] It wasn't quite a question.

Her face flooded with relief and unexpectedly, she turned and leaned into him, burrowing her head into the furry warmth of his chest. "No, don't. Thank you, Chewie, that's kind of you, I'd rather... I'd rather he didn't know." Sighing, the Wookie patted her shoulder, gently, and made what he hoped were soothing noises. Surely Solo would be better at this than he? If he lived another hundred years, he would never understand humans.

After a moment, she drew away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and he made a hesitant suggestion. ["This bench isn't very comfortable. Why don't you go change, and sleep in the bunk room?"]

_And what if that dream comes back, like it always does? Then what? _"No, no, this is fine."

["I've slept out here, Princess. It's not fine. What's wrong?"]

She blew out her breath. "It's been a long time since I had nightmares," she offered, reluctantly. "They used to happen... a lot. And some times..." she searched for a way to explain. "some times I used to wake up screaming, you see."

["You don't want him to know?"] She shook her head. ["And you think you'll have the same dream again?"]

"I used to have it, over and over."

["Used to?"]

"I wasn't sleeping. And... well, it was right after the Death Star..." she looked up, anxiously, and he nodded to let her know he understood what she meant, she didn't have to say the rest. "I talked to a lot of doctors. It's... it hasn't been as bad, lately. I've got some meds now, that I usually take, that... help."

["And you haven't taken them tonight?"]

"No," she said, sourly. "They're in my bags, on the transport. Halfway to the rendevous by now."

["Oh."] He thought a moment, then brightened. ["We might have something in the med bay, can you tell me the name of what you've been using?"]

She frowned. "Trilline."

The blue eyes narrowed. Trilline wasn't just a sleep aid. It was an antidepressent as well. ["I doubt we have that in stock."] She hadn't really expected they'd have that particular medication, anyway. ["And,"] he went on, ["even if we picked any up recently, it likely went to the pharmacy already."] Looking up sharply, the Princess realized that the Falcon's supply runs were probably the source of the vial she'd been given at the med center. Well. how else did she think they'd gotten the stuff? It wasn't as if the Rebel Alliance could put in an order with a pharmecutical company.

["We might have something else..."]

"I don't want to try something I've never used, who knows what sort of reaction I might have." She said this with the air of one who has been presecribed multiple meds and learned to balance the side effects. "Don't worry, Chewie," she added, brightly, "I'll just... muddle through."

Chewie didn't think much of this strategy but it didn't look like there was anything he could do to change her mind. ["Here,"] he offered, resigned, ["at least take a pillow."] He opened the overhead compartment where Han had found the blanket, and tossed a pillow down to her. She took it gratefully and stretched back out on the couch.

Sighing, he returned to his chair, mentioning, conversationally, that his nap earlier had refreshed him; he wouldn't need to sleep for some time yet. Carefully not looking at her, he wondered, aloud, whether she would mind if he left the lights on, on this side of the lounge? It was his way of inquiring whether she wanted him to stay or not, and she acknowledged his discretion with a relieved smile. "That'd be fine, Chewie. Thanks."

It wasn't long before she was tossing and turning, again, though, and mumbling incoherent things. He distinctly heard "No, please, no...", and then she whimpered softly. He watched, curious, and saw she had curled herself into a ball and was protecting her abdomen with her arms.

Suddenly she sat up, breathing hard, and clutching her chest. Her hair was escaping from its long braids and, damp with sweat, it clung to her face and neck.

["Again?"] She could only nod. ["Can you talk about it? Sometimes that helps."]

"Believe me, I've talked it to death. It doesn't help." Her words were bitter and he wished there was something he could do.

["You're sure, you don't want me to fetch the Captain?"]

"Oh, gods, no. Please," she begged. "Please, Chewie, you can't tell him. He... he'll laugh."

["He won't laugh at you. There's nothing to be ashamed of."]

"I'm not ashamed... I'm just..."

["You don't want him to know you're afraid?"] She nodded, miserably. _Humans. _["Why don't you go back to the bunk, at least, sleep somewhere comfortable?"]

"I guess I should…" she answered, reluctantly, her mind flashing back to Solo. She knew that there was no real reason she should be worried about sleeping in the bunk room. There were three bunks in there. And Han was probably already asleep.

Sleeping in the same room with him just seemed a bit more voluntary intimacy than she was ready to accept. She'd already pushed the boundaries of this relationship into new territory today. She searched for a tactful way to turn down the Wookie's suggestion.

"I just… I don't want to disturb anyone." She thought she'd kept her voice steady. But she still didn't risk turning to meet those blue eyes.

Chewie misunderstood her reluctance. ["The captain and I have shared that room for many years. You're more likely to be disturbed by us. We both snore."]

The conversation was stretching the limits of her Shriiwook vocabulary. "Come again?" With infinite patience, the Wookie repeated the statement, adding a very convincing imitation of the Captain's snores to illustrate his point. "I see," she laughed. "So," she added, in a conspiratorial tone, "Who snores louder, him or you?"

Chewbacca laughed and answered quite matter-of-factly. ["Me, or so we've been told."] Leia immediately regretted her attempt at humor and felt herself blushing at the very clear mental picture this statement inspired. Oh, good skies. Surely he kicked Chewie out of the cabin when he had a woman in his bunk? She shut her eyes, trying to erase _that _particular thought from her head, with little success. The Wookie went on, oblivious to her embarrassment, ["You needn't worry. He sleeps like a rock. He won't wake up."]

"I couldn't…"

["Don't be silly. He set up a bunk for you in there. You think he won't notice if you sleep out here instead for the next three weeks?"]

"No, I guess you're right."

["Well, then?"] It was quite clear that he wasn't going to let her win this argument and she sighed, heavily, and lay back on the couch, arm over her face. Chewie turned the last of the lights off, and came to stand in front of her, gesturing impatiently. ["Come on. Or do I have to carry you?"]

"All right. I'm going." She rose and strode ahead of him into the crew cabin, marching straight for the 'fresher. She stayed in there for a long time, running water over her wrists and taking some deep breaths. When she thought she had herself back under control, she turned out the light and emerged back into the bunk room. She stood still for a moment outside the 'fresher door, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the cabin. The only illumination came from the emergency lighting that ran along the deck.

The shape that was Solo snored in the far bunk, and just as she began to distinguish his form, not just a vague lump on the bunk, he gave a sort of grunt and rolled over, to face the bulkhead. His blanket was lying very loosely over his lower half, and when he turned, she caught the bright flash of bare skin, the long expanse of back and shoulders as he settled into the new position. It was, she had to confess, a very attractive sight.

The snoring resumed and she swallowed hard and forced her gaze away from him. _He's not naked. He's definitely wearing pants under that blanket,_ she told herself, firmly. _Oh, gods. Please let him be wearing pants. _She grabbed her night clothes and dove back into the 'fresher, before she found herself going closer to check this theory.

In the 'fresher, she changed into the loose shirt and shorts she'd settled on for night wear, and had to admit this was more comfortable for sleeping than her cold weather overall. She lay down, nervously, on the spare bunk, and shifted around, trying to locate a comfortable position. At last she ended up on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the low rumble of Solo's snores and finding herself oddly soothed by the steady rhythm of his breathing.

She soon drifted into a light sleep, where she remained, oblivious to the cacophony of sounds that emerged from the Wookie's corner, for nearly two hours. But just as she began to sink into a deeper sleep, the same familair nightmare returned to torment her for the third time that night. She came struggling out from under the invisble weight that pressed into her chest, trying to hold her in the dream.

Tears streamed silently down her face, as she fought the desire to scream. She rocked back and forth, huddled into a ball, until her heart stopped racing and she could unclench her fists at last.

She lay as quiet as possible, trying to slow her breathing by focusing as hard as she could on the pattern of Solo's snores again. It seemed the Wookie had been right about that much at least – Han didn't seem remotely disturbed by her wakefulness. Chewie's snores had fallen silent and she knew he was awake, although he didn't acknowledge her in any way. She felt his eyes on her in the darkness, but didn't allow herself to call out to him. There wasn't anything he could do.

She rolled on her side to stare at the bulkhead, wondering how in the hell she was going to manage the next three weeks, if this was how the nights were going to go. Why, oh, why, hadn't she kept her bags with her in the command center?

She didn't mind being without her clothes, not that much, at least. So long as she didn't think too hard about the owners of the clothing she'd borrowed, she'd be fine. But she was going to really miss that bag of personal items.

The vial of pills tucked into the toiletry bag was what had finally allowed her to sleep through the night without dreaming for the first time since the Death Star.

Without them, she was at the mercy of her subconscious, of the terrible memories that still lived there. The dreams tonight had been as bad as they'd ever been before she'd started taking the medication. They'd had to move her from the women's dormitory to her own quarters after the Death Star - no one wanted a room mate who woke up screaming, night after night. She didn't dare let that happen again.

She was so very tired that she knew if she stayed in her bunk, she'd sink back into sleep whether she wanted to or not. And she knew if she got up and left the cabin, the Wookie, at least, would feel obligated to come after her. She wasn't in the mood for more sympathy.

After some thought, she set her chrono to vibrate against her wrist with intermittent pulses, on the half hour, which ought to nudge her awake if she drifted off. With luck she wouldn't settle into a deep enough sleep for dreams.

It was going to be a very long night.


End file.
